Chapter 143: Unseen Hands

Maverick

I shut the phone off before the image could burn itself any deeper into my skull.

Sengal. Maggie Howell. Smiling like architects admiring their finished work.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to. Agatha had seen my face change, had felt the air in the room shift the way witches do when something poisonous enters the world.

“What do you have there?” she asked quietly.

I handed her the phone.

Her fingers trembled just slightly as she took it, eyes scanning the screen when it lit again. For a heartbeat, she said nothing. Then her mouth pressed into a thin, furious line.

“So my father and Maggie Howell worked together,” she murmured. “They weren’t just allies. They were collaborators.”

“Worse,” I said. “They were partners.”

Master Lupo looked between us, confusion sharpening into alarm. “Maggie Howell… Your Luna's mother?

“Yes,” I said. “And she’s been playing a longer game than any of us realized.”

Agatha snapped the trunk shut with a decisive clang. “Everything in here is evidence. Elixirs, notes, ritual components, distribution formulas. We don’t leave any of it behind.”

I nodded and grabbed Sengal’s laptop, shoving it into the trunk alongside the phone. The thing was heavier than it looked, packed with glass, iron-bound books, and enough magic residue to make the air hum.

“We’re leaving,” I said. “Now.”

Master Lupo hesitated. “The mountain—”

“Is compromised,” I cut in. “Your monks have already been tested on. You're vulnerable out here."

Agatha stepped around the trunk, lifted one hand, and the damn thing rose off the stone floor like it weighed nothing. Her magic wrapped around it in tight, controlled coils.

Lupo exhaled slowly. “Then I will prepare them.”

“Prepare them for war,” I said. “Train them to be warriors.”

His eyes met mine. Something ancient passed between us. Respect, perhaps. Or understanding.

“I will have the monks train for battle,” Master Lupo said. “Not just defense. If the Covenant comes for this mountain, they will bleed for it.”

I bowed deeply, fist to chest. Not as an Alpha. As a wolf acknowledging a master older than war itself.

“Thank you, Master Lupo. And make sure you throw out whatever salt you have in the kitchen."

Agatha levitated the trunk behind her as we moved. The mountain corridors felt different now—exposed, stripped of their false sanctity.

Whatever Bwasho had been, it would never be that again.

When we emerged back into the garden, the others were waiting exactly where I’d left them.

Evie stood near the water, arms wrapped around herself, staring into the lake as if she were listening to something only she could hear. Bear and Leon flanked her, alert but calm. Zuri and Aurora paced, deep in thought. Smith leaned against a tree, chewing on a protein bar like the world wasn’t about to end.

I didn’t waste time.

“Sengal’s been working with Maggie Howell,” I said. “All this time.”

Evie turned slowly at the sound of her mother’s name on my lips. Shock swept over her, draining the color from her face, her eyes widening as if the words had hit before she could brace herself.

My voice carried across the garden, sharp and unyielding. “They’ve produced silver dust so fine it can be mixed into salt. Food. Preservation lines. They’ve already tested it on the monks.”

A ripple of unease moved through the group. Glances were exchanged. Shoulders tightened. No one spoke.

“All they have to do,” I continued, each word landing heavier than the last, “is mass-produce it and ship it to wolf packs around the world. And then, we're all screwed."

Zuri swore softly, the sound jagged with disbelief. Smith went utterly still.

I braced for Evie’s reaction.

Instead, her gaze drifted past us all, unfocused, as if something unseen had reached in and taken hold.

“Luna Evie?” Bear said, stepping closer.

Her pupils dilated until the silver vanished. When she spoke, the voice that came out of her mouth wasn’t hers.

It was older, colder, and utterly wrong.

“When the Blood Moon comes in three months hence,” the voice said, echoing unnaturally through the garden, “I will avenge my son by taking yours, Alpha Maverick Blake.”

Every instinct in me flared.

“No one,” the voice continued, “not you, not your nephew, not the Council, not any of your precious wolves will stop me. And when I do, you would have wished I had killed you.”

Then Evie collapsed.

Bear caught her before she hit the grass, swearing as he lowered her carefully to the ground. Her body was limp, breath shallow but steady.

"Morgana." Agatha’s face had gone bloodless. “She entered her, that vile witch."

I crouched beside Evie, brushing hair back from her face. Rage coiled in my chest, hot and merciless.

“Morgana thinks it'll be that simple,” I said. “Not while I’m breathing.”

Agatha straightened, eyes locking onto mine. “Mavy, when you said 'you took care of Arnold for me', did you actually mean you killed Arnold?”

“Yes,” I said simply. “There was no other way.”

She nodded once. No judgment. Only understanding.

“Then we have three months,” Agatha said, voice cutting clean through the tension. “Three months to prepare. You need the Council on your side, Maverick. When Morgana and the Covenant move, we’ll need every ally we can get.”

I stood. “Then let’s go wake the lions.”

She opened a portal with a flick of her wrist.

Las Vegas hit us like a punch.

Heat. Noise. Neon slicing through the midnight like knives. Cars honked. Laughter and music spilled from open doors. No one even glanced twice as a group of people in heavy coats and snow pants appeared out of thin air, a huge trunk floating silently behind them.

Evie stirred as Bear helped her walk. “I hate that I couldn’t stop her,” she muttered.

“You did nothing wrong,” I said. “Now we know she can force her way in. That makes her predictable. That makes her vulnerable."

She snorted. “You always say that like it’s comforting.”

“It is,” I said. “For me.”

I flagged down two cabs. “Everyone get in. We're headed for the Sizzling Spoon Diner.”

Smith blinked. “A diner?”

“The smell of food hides the scent of wolves,” I said. “Council’s been using it for decades.”

The diner was pure nostalgia. Neon sign flickering. Vinyl booths. Tourists packed shoulder to shoulder, laughing over milkshakes and greasy plates.

The waitress spotted me through the window and immediately pointed toward the back alley.

We circled around, slipped into the kitchen, and into a small office behind it. The manager bowed deeply, said nothing, and pressed a hidden button.

The wall slid open.

Chaos spilled out.

The Council chamber was in disarray. High Wolves shouting at each other. Furniture overturned. Claws out. Teeth bared.

The moment I stepped inside, they froze. Every single one of them bowed.

“What in the hell is going on?” I demanded.

A councilman in a tailored suit stepped forward, his composure barely holding, tie loosened, knuckles white where his hands clenched at his sides.

“Lucian and Raven have escaped, Alpha Lord Blake.”

The words landed like a gunshot in the chamber.

For a second, I didn’t move. I let the anger crest, let it burn hot and sharp behind my ribs instead of choking it down. I dragged a hand down my face, not to steady myself, but to keep from tearing the room apart.

Of course they had.

Of course the rot ran deeper.

My breath escaped in a low, humorless exhale. When I lifted my gaze, it was cold and lethal, cutting across the high-ranking members of the Council.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, the word edged with something darker than disbelief.

It just keeps getting better and better.

I turned to Agatha. “Did Sengal keep truth serum?”

She smiled thinly. “Of course he did.”

“Good,” I said. “Hand me the vial. Everyone here drinks. No exceptions."

Movement caught my eye.

A councilman was edging toward the exit, slow and careful, like he thought stillness could make him invisible.

He was wrong.

Bear moved in a blur.

One second the man was reaching for the button to open the wall, the next Bear had him by the collar, slamming him into the marble floor. The impact echoed. Bear hauled him back across the floor like dead weight and shoved him to his knees at my feet.

“Julio,” I said calmly, my voice cutting through the sudden silence, “you have one chance. Tell us what you’ve done.”

Julio swallowed, sweat beading at his temples. His eyes darted everywhere but at me.

“I was forced,” he said hoarsely. “Draven had my nephew—Tío. He told me if I didn’t let them go, he’d kill him.”

I studied him in silence, letting the moment stretch until his breathing turned ragged, until fear stripped away whatever mask he’d been wearing.

“No,” I said softly. “You’re lying.”

The word landed heavier than a shout.

And that was when things were finally going to get honest.