Chapter 23 Suspect
CHAPTER 23: Suspects
Aric's POV
The room went dead quiet the moment she said it.
“I know who’s helping the grimhowls.”
Every head turned to her like she had just slapped the table.
I leaned back in my chair slowly, eyes never leaving Seraphine. The elders stared first, shocked, then confused... and then amused.
For a second, no one spoke. Then Elder Rovan let out a short laugh.
“Did the cockroach just speak?” he said, glancing around the table.
Another elder chuckled. Then another.
“Oh, this should be good,” Elder Maelis said, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. “Please, little human, enlighten us. What great wisdom have you brought from your fragile little world?”
The laughter grew louder.
“A human girl thinks she understands pack matters,” Caspian muttered under his breath, though he didn’t laugh. “This keeps getting better.”
Seraphine didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink. She just looked at me. That alone made the laughter falter.
Elder Rovan leaned forward, grinning.
“You’re barely more than prey. What would you know about grimhowls or pack defenses?”
“Yes,” Elder Maelis added. “You humans can’t even protect yourselves without crying wolf... no offense intended.”
More laughter.
“She probably thinks monsters live under her bed,” another elder said.
I watched her carefully. Most humans would have snapped back by now. Or cried. Or stormed out.
She did none of that. She just kept staring at me.
That look was sharp. Too sharp. Like she was daring me to hear her out.
I slammed my hand on the table.
“Enough.”
The sound echoed through the chamber. The elders fell silent at once.
“I said enough,” I repeated, voice low. “All of you. Out.”
They stared at me, shocked.
Elder Rovan frowned.
“Alpha...”
“Out,” I said again, more dangerous this time.
One by one, they stood. Slowly. Reluctantly. Muttering under their breaths.
“This is ridiculous.”
“You’re indulging her.”
“She’s manipulating you.”
I didn’t respond.
Caspian hesitated, looking between me and Seraphine. Then he nodded once and followed the others out.
The doors shut behind them with a heavy thud.
The room felt smaller with just the two of us.
I exhaled slowly and looked at her.
“Speak.”
She cleared her throat. Then, very deliberately, she dragged her chair closer to mine.
I raised a brow.
“Bold.”
“Can’t whisper accusations,” she said. “Might as well sit close.”
I crossed my arms.
“Go on.”
She took a breath.
“Vespera is helping the grimhowls.”
The words hit me like cold water. I stared at her. Then I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
“That’s your great revelation?” I said. “That’s the nonsense you interrupted a war council for?”
Her face didn’t change.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” I snapped. “That’s bullshit.”
She leaned back.
“You say that very confidently.”
“Because I know her,” I said sharply. “Vespera is many things, but a traitor isn’t one of them.”
“And yet,” she said calmly, “the grimhowls keep breaking through defenses they shouldn’t even know exist.”
“That doesn’t mean...”
“And she hates me,” Seraphine added.
I scoffed.
“She dislikes most people.”
“She marked me as an enemy the moment I arrived.”
I shrugged.
“You were sent here under false pretenses.”
“And I heard you two having sex on my first night.”
The words came out so bluntly I almost choked.
I stared at her.
“Excuse me?”
She raised her brows.
“Oh. So it did happen.”
I rubbed my temples.
“This is what this is about? Jealousy?”
She looked offended.
“What? No.”
“You accuse her because you’re jealous,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s almost flattering.”
She let out a sharp laugh.
“I would rather wrestle a grimhowl naked.”
I smirked.
“You already kissed me.”
Her eyes flashed.
“That meant nothing.”
“Sure it didn’t.”
“You’re not my type.”
“Funny,” I said. “You didn’t seem disgusted.”
She stood abruptly.
“You’re really that ignorant.”
“And you want me,” I teased. “You just hate that you do.”
She whirled on me.
“I would never want you.”
I tilted my head.
“Then explain the kiss.”
Her mouth opened. Closed. Then she exploded.
“You’re a murderer.”
The room froze. The humor drained from my face.
She stopped too. Her chest rose fast, like she’d said something she couldn’t take back.
“What did you just say?” I asked quietly.
Her eyes darted away.
“Nothing.”
“No,” I said, standing. “You don’t throw words like that around. What do you mean?”
She shook her head.
“Drop it.”
“I won’t,” I said. “Tell me.”
Her jaw clenched so hard I thought I heard her teeth grind.
For the first time since I met her, I saw it... the cracks in that sharp, unbreakable armor she wore so well. Her shoulders stiffened. Her eyes shone with something raw and ugly, like a wound that had never healed.
“You shouldn’t act so ignorant,” she snapped. Her voice shook, but not with fear. With fury. “You were there.”
I frowned, genuinely confused.
“Where?”
She didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second.
“Red River Village.”
The name hit me like a punch to the chest.
Not physically... but deep, somewhere I couldn’t quite explain. My breath stalled. My heart skipped.
She stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of her anger. Her eyes burned into mine.
“You were there the night it was massacred.”
“That’s impossible,” I said slowly, every word careful. “I was never...”
“You tore my father apart!” she shouted, her voice breaking at last. “Limb by limb!”
The room tilted. For a moment, I wasn’t sure I was standing anymore.
“That never happened,” I said, shaking my head. “I never attacked Red River. I never ordered it. I would remember something like that.”
She laughed, sharp and hollow.
“You stood there. I saw you.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, my voice rising despite myself. “You have to be.”
“I’m not,” she hissed. “I watched him die. I watched you do it.”
Silence crashed down between us, thick and suffocating.
No insults.
No laughter.
No teasing.
Just the sound of our breathing and the weight of her words hanging in the air.
I studied her face. Not for lies... but for truth.
There was rage, yes. But beneath it was something far worse. Pain. Old pain. Grief that had settled deep and sharpened over time, turning into something deadly. And belief. Pure, unshakable belief.
She believed every single word she was saying.
“I didn’t do that,” I said again, softer now, almost pleading. “Seraphine, I swear it to you. I didn’t.”
She shook her head violently, like she was trying to shake me out of existence.
“Of course you’d say that. Monsters always deny their crimes.”
“Seraphine...”
She stepped back suddenly, like being near me burned.
“I curse the ground you walk on,” she said, her voice trembling.
Then she turned. She didn’t look back.
The doors slammed shut behind her with a sound that echoed far too loudly in the room.
I stood there, frozen, staring at the empty space she’d left behind. My chest felt tight. Heavy.
Red River Village.
I had never been there. I had never ordered its destruction. I knew that. So why did her words refuse to leave my head?