Chapter 59 Seventh Bell Reckoning: Forged Evidence and Cohabitation Exposed
Wynter‘s POV
Owen's confession hung in the air between us, heavy as a death sentence.
"There's more," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Something I haven't told you yet."
Chase went very still beside me. "What?"
Owen looked up, meeting our eyes with an expression that was part shame, part desperation. "They're planning a civil war. That's—that's the whole point of everything I've been doing."
The words didn't make sense at first. I heard them, processed them individually, but together they seemed impossible.
"What are you talking about?" Jax demanded from his position by the door.
Owen swallowed hard. "Bloodrock. They don't just want intelligence. They want Silvermoon and Emerald Valley to destroy each other. My job—my whole purpose—was to make sure that happened."
"How?" Chase's voice was dangerously quiet.
"Information," Owen said, the words tumbling out faster now. "But not just gathering it—twisting it. Forging documents, doctoring communications, planting false evidence." He looked directly at me, shame twisting his features. "That anonymous letter you received—the one with 'proof' that Silvermoon killed your father? I wrote it. I fabricated the evidence, made sure it reached you at exactly the right time to destroy any chance of trust between you and Chase. They're trying to use me to pit your two countries against each other."
My blood turned to ice. The letter that had shattered my world, that had made me see Chase as my father's murderer—it had all been a lie. A carefully crafted lie designed to tear us apart.
"I'm sorry," Owen whispered. "But they had Lily. They showed me what they'd do to her if I refused. So I became their weapon."
Chase’s hand found mine, squeezing tight. “You’re the one who’s been relaying messages to Messalin too, right?”
“Yes. They’re doing it just to inflame tensions.” Owen confirmed miserably.
"They strike first," I finished. "And Bloodrock picks up the pieces."
Owen nodded. "I kept records. Everything they asked me to do, every document I forged—I documented all of it. The real versions and the fake ones, side by side. I told myself it was insurance." His voice cracked. "But I was lying to myself."
"Where are the records?" I asked.
"Hidden in my room. Behind a loose panel in the wall near my bed." Owen's eyes found mine, desperate. "But I can't retrieve them tonight. My room has a monitoring charm—it tracks movement patterns. If I go straight there and start tearing apart my wall at this hour, the unusual activity will flag on my handler's alert system by morning."
That made sense. "So tomorrow?"
"After classes. Seventh bell—I usually study in my room then. I can retrieve the records without raising suspicion." He looked between us. "But tonight—please. I need to go back before anyone realizes I'm gone."
I looked at Chase, saw my own conflict reflected in his face. Every instinct screamed not to let Owen out of our sight.
"Tomorrow," Chase said finally. "Seventh bell. The astronomy tower."
"But we need insurance," Jax said suddenly. "I'll be watching you. You won't see me, but from the moment you leave here until tomorrow—if you try to run, if you contact anyone suspicious—"
"I won't," Owen said desperately. "I swear. I just want Lily back."
Chase studied him, then began unfastening the restraints. "If you betray us—if you put Wynter in danger—there's nowhere you can hide."
"I understand," Owen said quietly.
As Owen stood, I called out, "When did your handler show you that picture tonight? The one of Lily?"
Owen frowned. "Around eight-thirty? Why?"
I looked at Chase. "That's right around when we were setting up our ambush."
"Could be coincidence," Chase said, but his expression was grim. "Or it could mean they suspected Owen might be compromised."
"Which means they might already suspect we're investigating," Jax said darkly.
Owen's face went pale. "If they know—"
"Then we move faster than they can react," Chase interrupted. "Tomorrow. We get those records and bring everything into the light."
After Jax escorted Owen out, Chase's phone buzzed. He pulled it out, and I watched his expression shift to cold fury.
"Messalin," Chase said tightly. "He's dead. Found in his cell an hour ago."
"How?"
Chase turned the phone so I could see. Messalin's body on a cell floor, his right hand positioned strangely. The medical examiner's note said they'd had to pry open his fist to find what he'd carved into his own palm before rigor mortis set in.
Two letters, crude and desperate: BR.
"Bloodrock," I whispered.
" As expected, it’s Bloodrock. The timestamp is between nine and ten PM," Chase said. "Right around when Owen was meeting with his handler. They were cleaning house."
Jax slipped back inside. "Owen's back in his dorm. Looked terrified but didn't try to run."
The weight of another death pressed down on all of us. Messalin had died alone, desperate enough to carve a warning into his own flesh.
"We should get back," Jax said finally.
As we left the maintenance building, Rosalie materialized from her lookout position. "Everything okay?"
"Define okay," I said hollowly.
---
"We should celebrate," Rosalie said suddenly.
Everyone stared at her.
"I know it sounds crazy," she said quickly. "But we made progress. Real progress. We need one normal moment before everything goes to hell tomorrow."
She was right. Tomorrow would bring new dangers. But tonight—tonight we were still alive.
"It's past midnight," Chase pointed out. "Everywhere's closed."
"Not if you use your Alpha privileges," I said.
Chase's mouth quirked slightly. "You want me to abuse my authority for late-night food?"
"I want you to prove Bloodrock hasn't won yet."
He pulled out his phone. "There's a place. Melting Pot—the owner owes my father a favor."
---
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to a small restaurant tucked into a quiet corner. The owner—an older Beta woman—was waiting at the door.
"Lord Sterling's son," she said, nodding to Chase. "Your father helped my boy three years ago. Any friends of yours are welcome. No charge tonight."
She led us to a private room in the back, where a hot pot station was already bubbling with fragrant broth. As soon as she left, Rosalie started arranging dipping sauces while Jax sprawled in his chair, looking more relaxed than I'd seen him in weeks.
Chase was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Soft. Almost vulnerable.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said quietly. "Just—thank you for this."
The food arrived in waves, and for a while we just ate, letting the simple ritual wash away some of the horror. But eventually, Rosalie broke the silence.
"So," she said casually, "is anyone going to explain why Wynter keeps sneaking out every night?"
I nearly choked on my tea. Jax's head snapped up. Chase went very still.
"At first I thought it was insomnia," Rosalie continued. "Then secret study sessions. But the way you two look at each other, and you sneaking back in the middle of the night." She trailed off, realization dawning. "You're not living with him, are you?"
The silence was deafening.
I said frankly, "I do live with him."
"How long?" Jax's voice was dangerously quiet, his hands clenching on the table.
"Since the night Anne's people attacked me," I said, meeting his eyes. "Since the mark started causing panic whenever we were apart."
Jax's chair scraped back as he stood abruptly. "And you didn't tell me?"