⊰ 119 ⊱ The Necessary Charade

⊰ 119 ⊱ The Necessary Charade
| Malachi |

I stand before the full-length mirror in what was once my cell, barely recognizing the man staring back at me. Gone are the silver cuffs that have branded my wrists for weeks. Gone is the hollow-eyed, beaten prisoner who threatened to take his own son from his mother.

In his place stands an Alpha again.

The black suit fits perfectly—tailored, expensive, the kind of formal wear expected at Continental King gatherings. My hair has been cut and styled, my face clean-shaven. The silver has been purged from my system, leaving me with strength I'd almost forgotten I possessed.

For all appearances, I am Malachi Reed, contender for Continental King, successful Alpha who has been away on urgent pack business.

The illusion is perfect. If only it felt real.

A knock at the door interrupts my assessment. “It’s time,” comes Rook’s voice.

I take one last look at my reflection, squaring my shoulders. Everything depends on the next few hours. Not just the mission—though that matters—but my last chance to prove that Penelope and I belong together, true mates be damned.

The conference room I enter is full of tension. Rook stands at the head of a polished table covered with documents and maps. Elijah lounges in a chair nearby, his usual mask of casual indifference firmly in place, though I catch the way his eyes assess me with something that might be approval.

My brother. The traitor.

Even knowing his motivations were protective doesn’t ease the sting of his betrayal. 

How long had he been watching me? Planning around me? 

The questions burn, but I force them down. Now isn’t the time.

Jax stands by the window, his posture radiating energy of almost equal measure as Rook. When he turns as I enter, our eyes meet across the room—two powerful werewolves who will soon be forced into an impossible charade of cooperation.

“You clean up well,” Elijah comments, and I’m not sure if there’s mockery or genuine observation in his tone.

I don’t respond, focusing instead on Rook as he begins speaking. “The Continental King’s gathering is in three days. You’ll arrive tomorrow evening, which gives you time to acclimate and observe before the formal proceedings begin.”

He slides a thick folder across the table toward me. “Your cover story, complete with documentation of where you’ve been. You’ve been tracking threats against your family—which isn’t entirely false. Memorize every detail.”

I flip through the pages, noting the meticulous attention to detail. False witness statements, travel receipts, even photos of locations I’ve supposedly visited. 

His people are thorough.

“The objective is intelligence gathering,” Rook continues. “We need to identify who’s behind the corruption, who ordered the assassination of my parents, who’s been eliminating contenders. You’ll have access to people and conversations that our other sources cannot reach.”

“And Penelope?” I ask, careful to keep my tone neutral.

“Will serve as your Luna, as expected.” Rook’s eyes find mine. “All contenders will attend with their mates. Your absence of one would raise questions about the stability of your pack and your fitness to rule.”

I nod, though we all know that’s only part of the truth. What I don’t say—what I can’t say in front of the others—is that this is also my chance. My opportunity to win her trust back and help her break that… pesky mate pull.

If she chooses to run with me, I’ll take her. If not... I won’t run at all.

“Speaking of Luna Penelope,” Rook says, moving toward the door, “she should be here soon.”

As if summoned by his words, the door opens and Penelope enters, Elio cradled against her chest in that familiar wrap I’ve come to associate with their bond. 

“Rook explained the situation,” Penelope says, her tone neutral as she addresses the room rather than anyone specifically. “I understand what’s required.”

The distance in her voice stings, but I try not to let it show.

“Excellent,” Rook says. “As discussed, you’ll present as a united family. Malachi has been away on pack business, you’ve been managing affairs at home with your new son. Any rumors about your disappearance are just that—rumors. Understood?”

Penelope nods, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before flickering away in… shame? Embarrassment? Disappointment? I’m not sure which. I eye her for a moment longer, taking in the sight of her. She’s dressed in a simple but elegant dress the color of deep emerald, her hair pulled back in a style that emphasizes the graceful line of her neck.

Where Jax’s mark sits over mine.

The sight of it sends a surge of anger through me, but I force myself to focus on the larger issue. “There's a problem,” I say, my voice cutting through the room’s momentary silence.

All eyes turn to me. “Any werewolf with a functioning nose will be able to tell exactly what that mark is,” I continue, nodding toward Penelope’s neck. “An overlapping mark. They’ll know it’s not mine, and they’ll be able to identify whose it is.”

Before Rook can respond, Jax steps forward, his jaw tight. “Then she’ll cover it up.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me—harsh, bitter. “Cover it up?” I shake my head. “You think makeup is going to hide the scent? Every Alpha in that room will know exactly what they’re smelling.”

Jax’s eyes flash dangerously. “Are you questioning my ability to—”

“I’m questioning your grip on reality,” I cut him off. “Any wolf worth their title will recognize an overlapping mark, and they’ll know whose scent is dominant.”

“Enough,” Penelope says, her voice sharp with irritation. “Could you all stop talking about me like I’m not standing right here?”

The rebuke stings because it’s justified. But before any of us can respond, Rook raises a hand for silence.

“Malachi’s right,” he says, his tone thoughtful. “An overlapping mark would raise questions we can’t afford to answer.” His eyes move to Jax. “It may be best if you lift the mark for the sake of the mission.”

The satisfaction that floods through me is instant and overwhelming. I fight to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I’m practically crowing with victory.

Jax’s face darkens. “That’s not—I won’t—” He stops himself, clearly struggling with the order.

Rook doesn’t give him time to fully object. Instead, his attention turns to Penelope. “What do you want?” he asks simply.

The room falls silent. All eyes are on her as she stands there, Elio sleeping peacefully against her chest, completely unaware of the tension surrounding him.

Penelope is quiet for a long moment, her gaze distant. When she finally speaks, her voice is steady but soft. “I never wanted the mark in the first place.”

The words hit me like lightning. Every instinct in me wants to smile, to show my triumph, but I force myself to remain stoic. I believed her when she told me she didn’t want it, but hearing her confirm it in front of Jax makes it bigger than just winning against him—this is Penelope asserting her own agency.

Rook nods once, decisive. “Then it’s settled. The mark will be removed before you attend the ceremony.”

Jax’s hands clench into fists at his sides. “Alpha—”

“It’s not a request,” Rook says, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of an Alpha giving an order to his subordinate. “It’s for the mission. For her safety. For all our safety.”

The power dynamic in the room shifts palpably. Jax may be a strong wolf, but he’s not the Alpha here. And despite his obvious reluctance—despite what removing the mark might mean for his bond with Penelope—he has no choice but to comply.

“Understood,” Jax says through gritted teeth, the word barely audible.

I can barely contain my relief. With the mark gone, with Jax’s claim erased, maybe—just maybe—I’ll have a real chance to win back my mate.

But my moment of triumph is short-lived.

Jax steps forward, his jaw still tight from the mark discussion. “I still think this is an unnecessary risk,” he says, and though his words are addressed to Rook, his eyes are on Penelope. “Taking them into a gathering of potentially hostile Alphas—”

“Is exactly what every other contender will be doing,” Rook cuts him off. “Besides, they won’t be unprotected.”

I see the moment understanding dawns on Jax’s face, and I don’t like what follows.

“You want me to go with them,” he says slowly.

“As additional security,” Rook confirms. “You’ll travel as part of Malachi’s entourage. Personal protection for his family.”

No.

The word screams through my mind, but I force myself to remain calm. Having Jax there—watching Penelope, being near my son, serving as a constant reminder of everything I’ve lost—feels like torture. And it completely undermines the victory I just felt about the mark removal.

But I can also see through Jax’s supposed concern for Penelope’s safety. Yes, he’s worried about her. But beneath that, I can smell his real fear: that being alone with me might rekindle something between Penelope and me. That given the chance, she might choose me after all.

“That’s not necessary,” I say, keeping my voice level. “I can protect my own family.”

“Can you?” Jax challenges, his frustration from the mark decision bleeding into his voice. “Because your track record—”

“Enough.” Rook’s voice cuts through the rising tension like a blade. “The decision is made. Jax will accompany you as security. Elijah will travel with you as well to return to his own territory.”

I want to argue and assert my Alpha authority. But I’m not the Alpha here. I’m a prisoner on temporary release, and Rook’s pointed look reminds me of exactly that.

“Of course,” I say through gritted teeth.

Penelope shifts Elio in her arms, and I catch the way she glances between Jax and me with something like resignation. This isn’t what she wanted either—to be caught between us in such close quarters.

“Your things are being prepared,” Rook continues. “Appropriate attire for court, documents, everything you’ll need. The plane will be ready in an hour.”

An hour. 

In an hour, I’ll be leaving this island, returning to the world I thought I’d lost. With my mate and son, but also with the man who’s claimed them both—though not for much longer.

“Any questions?” Rook asks.

I have dozens, but none I can voice here. Not about my real chances with Penelope, not about what happens if our cover is blown, not about whether Rook really expects me to return.

Because the truth is, if Penelope will come with me—really come with me—I won’t return. We’ll disappear, find somewhere safe to raise our son away from all this political maneuvering and danger.

And if she won’t... then none of the rest matters anyway.

“No questions,” I say finally.

Rook nods. “Then I suggest you prepare yourselves. This mission begins the moment you step off this island.”