Chapter 57 His Possesion
Dahila’s POV
Liam’s fever had finally broken. His small body was warm but no longer burning, his breathing steady against my arm. Lilly and Libby were curled at the edge of the bed, exhausted from fear and tears. They trusted me to keep them safe.
Across the chamber, Dagnoth stood near the balcony doors, his broad back to us, the night wind moving faintly through his dark hair.
He wasn’t touching me.
But I felt him.
His silence was never empty. It pressed against my skin, aware and restrained.
“You were leaving,” he said at last, his voice low and controlled.
It wasn’t a question.
I didn’t lie. “Yes.”
He turned slowly. The moonlight caught his face, sharpening the angles of his jaw. His eyes were no longer blazing like they had been when he tore through the rogues. Now they were colder. Sharper.
“You walked straight into rogue territory.”
“I was trying to get us out before sunrise,” I said. “Before the seer arrived.”
“And instead,” he replied evenly, “you would have delivered my children to scavengers.”
My chest tightened at the word my.
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“I know the forest. I know my borders. And I know fear when I see it.” He stepped closer. “What are you not telling me, Dahila?”
The question struck deeper than he intended.
If I told him about the warning… about the message hidden in Lilly’s cloak… about the whisper that someone inside the palace wanted the children gone before the seer spoke—
Everything would explode.
And I did not have proof.
“I panicked,” I said instead, forcing calm into my tone. “The rogues have been closer than usual. I thought slipping out quietly was safer.”
His eyes searched my face. Too closely.
“You have never been a woman who panics,” he murmured.
I forced a small, humorless smile. “Motherhood changes things.”
Something flickered in his expression at that.
For a moment, we stood too close. I could feel the heat of him. The pull. The memory of another night years ago in a forest, when he caught me before I shattered.
He looked like he remembered too.
A sudden shout echoed from the courtyard below.
Both of us turned sharply.
Guards were dragging someone across the stone path toward the main entrance. The man was bloodied, struggling, snarling curses.
Dagnoth’s entire body shifted.
“That scent,” he muttered.
He moved toward the door. I followed without thinking.
By the time we reached the lower hall, the guards had thrown the man to his knees. He was one of the rogues. Not dead.
Alive.
Which meant he could talk.
The rogue spat at the floor when he saw Dagnoth. “Alpha.”
Dagnoth descended the last step slowly. Each movement deliberate. Dangerous.
“You crossed my borders,” Dagnoth said calmly. “You attacked what is under my protection.”
The rogue smirked through split lips. “We were told you’d be distracted.”
My blood ran cold.
Dagnoth’s voice dropped an octave. “Told. By who?”
The rogue laughed. “You think we hunt blindly? We were paid.”
The guards tightened their grip as Dagnoth stepped forward.
I felt the shift in him—the thin thread of control snapping.
“Names,” Dagnoth ordered.
The rogue only grinned wider. “You should check your own walls, Alpha.”
In the blink of an eye, Dagnoth grabbed him by the throat and lifted him clean off the ground.
The hall went silent.
“You will not speak in riddles to me,” Dagnoth said softly. His fingers tightened. The rogue’s feet kicked uselessly. “Who sent you?”
The rogue’s eyes flickered fear at last but he clamped his mouth shut.
Dagnoth’s wolf pushed forward. I saw it in his eyes. In the way his muscles trembled.
He slammed the rogue against the stone pillar so hard the crack echoed through the hall.
Lilly whimpered behind me. I pulled the children closer.
“Speak,” Dagnoth growled.
The rogue spat blood. “I don’t betray coin.”
That was his last defiance.
Dagnoth threw him down the steps like he weighed nothing.
“Take him to the dungeon,” Dagnoth ordered coldly. “Chain him. No healer. No comfort. He speaks—or he rots.”
The guards dragged the rogue away quickly.
The hall emptied.
Silence settled again.
Dagnoth stood with his back to me, chest rising and falling heavily.
“He said he was paid,” I said quietly.
“Yes.”
“And that you would be distracted.”
He turned slowly. “You believe that was coincidence?”
I hesitated.
This was the moment.
I could accuse the Luna. I could say the suspicion aloud.
But suspicion without proof was war.
“I think,” I said carefully, “that someone inside your walls knew I would try to leave.”
His gaze sharpened instantly. “Explain.”
I swallowed.
“When Lilly’s cloak was being mended earlier, I found a thread sewn into the lining. A small knot pattern. It’s used by rogues to signal meeting points.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”
Because I don’t know who I can trust.
Because your Luna smiles too sweetly when she looks at my children.
Because I have seen the way she watches Liam.
But I could not say that without evidence.
“I needed to be sure,” I said instead.
He studied me for a long moment.
“You suspect someone specific.”
It wasn’t a question.
My silence answered him.
“Say it,” he pressed.
I shook my head. “Not without proof.”
His eyes darkened. “You think I would protect them over you?”
The words landed heavier than he knew.
“This isn’t about me,” I whispered. “It’s about the children.”
His gaze softened just slightly. “They are under my protection.”
Our eyes locked.
“And you?” he asked quietly.
The question stole my breath.
“I don’t need protection,” I said too quickly.
A faint, almost bitter smile touched his lips. “You have always needed it. You simply refuse to admit it.”
Anger flared—but beneath it was something else.
Dangerous warmth.
He stepped closer. Not threatening. Just close enough that I felt caged without walls.
“You lied to me tonight,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And you would do it again.”
“If it keeps them alive.”
His jaw clenched. But there was something like reluctant admiration in his eyes.
“You think I cannot handle this,” he said.
“I think you are blind where your Luna is concerned.”
There. It was out.
His expression shifted instantly.
“Careful, Dahila.”
“Am I wrong?” I asked.
“She has ruled beside me for years.”
“And power does not corrupt?” I challenged.
His nostrils flared. “You accuse her without evidence.”
“I suspect,” I corrected.
Silence stretched.
The air between us crackled—not just with conflict, but with something older. Something unresolved.
“You ran from me once before,” he said suddenly.
The shift caught me off guard.
“That was different.”
“Was it?” His voice lowered. “You disappeared before dawn. Before I could learn your name properly.”
My heart pounded.
“You weren’t meant to,” I said softly.
“And now?” he asked. “Were you meant to run again?”
I didn’t answer.
Because the truth was—
I was tired of running.
The dungeon horn sounded again in the distance. A signal that the rogue had been secured.
Dagnoth stepped back slightly, as if forcing space between us.
“I will question him myself at dawn,” he said. “If he refuses again…”
He didn’t finish.
But I knew.
“Until then,” he continued, “no one leaves this palace without my command.”
Including you.
The unspoken words hung between us.
“I won’t run tonight,” I said quietly.
His eyes searched mine, as if measuring the truth.
“Good,” he murmured.
He turned to leave, then paused.
“If your suspicion is correct,” he said without looking at me, “and someone within my walls seeks to harm what is mine… I will tear this palace apart stone by stone.”
The promise in his voice sent both fear and comfort through me.
When he finally walked away, the tension did not ease.
Because this was no longer about rogues.
It was about betrayal.
And as I gathered the children close and felt the echo of Dagnoth’s presence still lingering around me—
I knew one thing with certainty.
The real enemy was closer than either of us wanted to believe.
And when the truth surfaced…
It would not only test his throne.
It would test his heart.