CHAPTER 165

MIA'S POV

Xavier's chest still rose and fell in sharp, angry breaths, Tristan's fingers twitching at his sides, both of them still locked in whatever petty fight they had started. But I had no time for their nonsense.

Because I saw it.

A shadow, a movement too calculated, too precise. The way they slipped through the crowd, not rushing, not panicked-just careful.

Too careful.

Every instinct inside me screamed. My stomach twisted, and an icy chill ran up my spine. I didn't think. My body reacted before my mind fully caught up.

I reached out, grabbing both of them-Xavier's bicep, Tristan's wrist-dragging them closer before they could resist.

Their bodies tensed against my touch, Xavier's heat seeping through his shirt, Tristan's pulse hammering under my fingers. But I ignored the way my skin prickled from the contact.

I leaned in, lowering my voice, barely parting my lips. No one else could hear this.

"Look past your damn fight," I whispered, my heart pounding in my ears. "Someone just slipped away. And they're heading toward my father's room."

They went still. Dead still.

Xavier's jaw tightened as he followed my gaze. His muscles tensed beneath my grip, his usual arrogance replaced by something cold, dangerous.

Tristan's breath steadied, but his entire body had gone rigid.

They saw it now.

The spy.

Neither of them spoke. We didn't need words.

We moved.

Footsteps echoed softly ahead of us.

Xavier walked with silent precision, his presence towering, his shoulders squared, every step sharp and controlled. Tristan was right beside me, his knuckles flexing, his lips pressed into a thin line, barely hiding the anger simmering beneath his skin.

I trailed behind them, my own body on high alert, heart hammering against my ribs. This was bad.

The figure ahead didn't run. Didn't hesitate.

They just… moved.

Like they had every right to be there.

That made it worse.

My hands curled into fists. I should've seen this coming.

My father had been poisoned. The pack had been infiltrated. Keith was out there. I had been so focused on my emotions, so caught up in this tangled mess of betrayal and complicated feelings, that I let my guard slip.

And now my father might pay for it.

A flicker of movement-the door creaked open.

My stomach lurched.

I didn't think.

I couldn't.

Tristan brushed against my side, his hand hovering near mine, a silent question. Xavier's body tensed beside me, his fingers twitching as if fighting the urge to lunge.

I stood frozen, watching the traitor, my heartbeat a wild drum in my chest. He moved with confidence, too much confidence. Like he knew no one would stop him.

And that pissed me off.

A wicked grin stretched across his face as he held up the syringe, the liquid inside glistening under the dim light. Poison. Again.

"The Alpha deserves this," he sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance, fingers tightening around the syringe. He leaned down, aiming straight for my father's veins.

Not this time.

The moment the needle hovered over his skin, the lights flickered.

Once. Twice.

Then, in a blink, the entire room went pitch black.

Silence.

I held my breath, my pulse roaring in my ears. My fingers curled against my palm, nails digging into my skin. Something was happening.

A single second passed, then another-

Light flooded back into the room.

The scene snapped into focus. Me. The brothers. Tristan. The bastard with the poison.

And my father-very much awake.

The traitor stiffened.

His smugness evaporated in an instant, eyes widening, panic flashing across his face.

"What the-"

Before he could react, before the syringe could touch my father's skin, a strong hand lashed out.

My father's hand.

He caught the bastard's wrist mid-air, fingers closing around it like a steel trap.

The syringe clattered to the floor.

The room was deathly silent.

Except for the traitor, who was losing his mind.

"Y-you were unconscious!" he stammered, struggling against my father's grip, his face draining of color. "You were-"

One second, the bastard was smirking like he had already won, and the next-my father had him in a death grip.

A slow, wicked satisfaction curled in my chest.

Finally. Finally.

After all the betrayal, the near-death experiences, the constant paranoia of an unseen enemy lurking in the shadows, we had one of them.

And he was terrified.

His whole body trembled as he tried to pull away from my father's iron grip, but it was useless. His legs wobbled, his breathing came out in quick, panicked gasps. His confidence? Gone. His arrogance? Completely shattered.

Good.

I stepped forward, my boots echoing in the silence, my heart hammering-not from fear, but from the thrill of seeing the enemy finally caged.

"You were so sure of yourself a moment ago," I taunted, tilting my head, eyes locked onto him like a predator sizing up its prey. "What happened? Not so confident now, huh?"

His eyes darted wildly around the room, looking for a way out, someone-anyone-to save him.

There was no one.

He was alone.

And we weren't letting him go.

I turned to my father, who was still gripping the traitor's wrist. His expression was unreadable, but his body was steady, his presence commanding. For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself feel the relief of seeing him strong. Awake. In control.

The weight pressing on my chest loosened just a bit.

He wasn't going to die.

Not today.

I had been so scared-terrified-that I was going to lose him too. That I'd be too late. That the poison would sink into his veins before I could do anything.

But here he was, sitting up, holding the bastard like he was nothing more than a misbehaving pup.

A breath I didn't realize I had been holding finally escaped me.

Thank the Moon Goddess.

The brothers stood frozen, shock written all over their faces. Even Tristan, who rarely lost his composure, looked momentarily speechless. They had all thought my father was unconscious, helpless.

But I knew better.

Because my father had always been a warrior first.

I turned back to the traitor, whose face had lost all color. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead as he squirmed, chest rising and falling in panicked gasps.

"Please," he croaked, voice shaking, so weak now. The same man who had just laughed about murdering my father was now begging.

Pathetic.

"Please what?" I folded my arms, staring down at him. "You didn't seem so desperate when you were about to drive that poison into his veins."

His lips parted, but no words came.

I watched as realization sank in-there was no escape.

His breaths came faster. Desperation. His shoulders started shaking. Panic. His hands, free of my father's grip now, balled into fists. Rage.

He knew he was caught.

Knew his fate was sealed.

And I wanted to see him break.

I crouched in front of him, lowering my voice just enough for him to hear. "Tell me who sent you," I murmured, eyes narrowing. "Tell me everything, and maybe-maybe-I'll make your death quick."

His breath hitched.

His pulse pounded at his neck.

But he said nothing.

I sighed, pushing off my knees as I stood. "Fine. Have it your way." I glanced at the brothers, my father, Tristan. "Let's make him talk."

The traitor's eyes widened in horror.