Chapter 11 SERA'S RAGE

Chapter 11 SERA'S RAGE
Chapter 11:

Sera's POV

Lyssa returned faster than expected, her face grim. "The girl's dead. Found her in a storage closet, neck broken. Body's still warm."

The pieces clicked into place. "The High Council. They knew Lydia would come to me. Knew I'd be suspicious of any gift. Used a real servant to deliver a poisoned toy, then killed her to eliminate the witness."

"And I'd take the blame," Lydia finished quietly. "The desperate exile making one last attempt on the child's life. No one would question it."

She was right. It was exactly what I would have believed.

"The routes you gave me," I said. "Are they real?"

"Yes. Everything I told you is real." Lydia met my eyes. "But clearly, the High Council expected me to tell you. Which means-"

"Which means they want me to defend against those routes while the real attack comes from somewhere else." I crushed the wooden wolf in my hand, Moonsbane leaking between my fingers. My Lunar Lycan blood absorbed it harmlessly, but rage flooded my system. "They're using you as misdirection."

"I'm sorry." Lydia's voice broke. "I thought...I thought I was finally doing something right-"

"You are." The admission cost me, but facts were facts. "You gave me intelligence they expected you to give. Now I know they expect me to know. Which means I can work around their expectations."

"I don't understand."

"You don't need to." I moved toward the door. "Lyssa, keep Lydia in protective custody. If she's telling the truth, she's in danger. The High Council will want to eliminate their failed tool. If she's lying, we'll know soon enough."

"Where are you going?" Lydia asked.

"To have a very unpleasant conversation with my son about why he can't accept gifts from anyone.

I found Asher with Marcus in the training courtyard, practicing forms. He moved with grace unusual for his age, power barely contained in small limbs.

"Asher, we need to talk."

He stopped mid-movement, sensing my mood. "What happened?"

I knelt to his level. "Someone tried to hurt you again."

"The lady with the sad eyes?"

"No." I pulled him close. "The people controlling the lady with the sad eyes. Baby, I need you to understand something. There are wolves who want to take you away from me. Who want to use your power for bad things."

"I know." His voice was small. "The shadow men. They whisper sometimes when I sleep. Say I should come with them, that they'll teach me to be strong."

Ice flooded my veins. "They speak to you in dreams?"

"Sometimes. I don't listen. I wake up and think about you and Uncle Marcus and Commander Lyssa until the voices stop."

Mental manipulation. Dream infiltration. The High Council wasn't just planning physical kidnapping...they were working on his mind.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I tried to keep my voice calm.

"You have so much to worry about already." He looked down. "I didn't want to make it worse."

My heart cracked. Five years old and already trying to protect me.

"Asher, listen." I lifted his chin gently. "You never have to protect me from information. Your job is to be a kid. My job is to keep you safe. That means you tell me everything, understand? Dreams, voices, gifts from strangers, everything."

"Even if it's scary?"

"Especially if it's scary." I hugged him tight. "We're a team. We protect each other."

"And now we have a father too?" His voice was muffled against my shoulder. "Does he protect us too?"

"I don't know yet," I answered honestly. "We'll see."

"Uncle Marcus says you should give him a chance. That everyone deserves a chance to fix their mistakes."

"Uncle Marcus has opinions about everything."

"Do you think he can fix his mistake?" Asher pulled back to look at me. "Do you think he's sorry enough?"

"I think-" I considered how to answer this. "I think he's sorry. I don't know if sorry is enough."

"When I do something wrong, you make me apologize and then do better," Asher said seriously. "Maybe that's what he needs to do. Apologize and then be better."

"When did you get so wise?"

"Uncle Marcus says I get it from you."

"Uncle Marcus really needs to stop gossiping with children."

A commotion at the courtyard entrance. Dante strode in, fully armed, his expression thunderous.

"Sera, we need to move. Now."

"What happened?"

"The vote's been moved up. They're convening in an hour instead of this afternoon." His eyes found Asher, something painful flashing across his face. "And there are rumors of a planned disturbance during the session. We need to get Asher somewhere secure before this starts."

"Agreed." I stood, kept Asher behind me. "But I'm not hiding him away where I can't reach him quickly."

"Then he comes with us. To the council hall. We keep him visible, surrounded by guards, impossible to grab without causing a massive incident."

"Making him a target to prevent targeting. Risky."

"Everything's risky right now." Dante moved closer, dropped his voice. "Sera, they're coming for him today. One way or another. At least in the council hall, we're both present, we have witnesses, and any attack becomes publicly visible political suicide for the Council."

He wasn't wrong. Hide Asher, and the Council had multiple opportunities to grab him quietly. Keep him in plain sight during a public session, and any move against him would have to be explained.

"Fine." I hated agreeing with him, but logic won. "But he stays between us at all times. Any threat approaches-"

"I'll die before letting anyone touch him." Dante said it with absolute certainty. "That's a promise."

"Promises from you don't mean much."

"Then let me prove this one." He looked past me to Asher. "Hey, kid. You ready to watch some boring adult politics?"

"Will there be yelling?" Asher asked hopefully.

"Probably a lot of yelling."

"Then yes. I like yelling. It's honest."

Despite everything, I almost smiled. "Where does he get this stuff?"

"Probably you," Dante said. "You always did appreciate honesty over politeness."

"I appreciated not being lied to. There's a difference."

"I know." His expression sobered. "And for what it's worth, I'm done lying. To you, to myself, to everyone."

"We'll see." I took Asher's hand. "One hour. We'd better prepare for war disguised as politics."

"The best kind of war," Marcus said, appearing from wherever he'd been lurking. "The kind where words cut deeper than steel."

"Are you going to say something cryptic and unhelpful, or actually provide guidance?" I asked.

"Both." He smiled. "Remember, Majesty, they expect you to defend. Sometimes the best defense is burning their entire strategy to the ground and dancing in the ashes."

"That's your advice? Arson and dancing?"

"Metaphorical arson. Probably metaphorical dancing." He sobered. "They think they have you trapped. Prove them wrong."

"I intend to."

We moved as a unit toward the council hall...me, Dante, Asher between us, guards surrounding us in tight formation. Wolves scattered out of our path, sensing the tension.

The mate bond hummed between us, stronger than it had been. Not healed, but persistent. Like it was trying to remind us that despite politics and pain and poisoned toys, some connections refused to die.

I ignored it. Had to.

Because in less than an hour, I'd stand before the Continental Council and choose: play their political games, or flip the entire board and damn the consequences.

Marcus was right. Sometimes the best strategy was burning everything down.

And I'd brought matches.