The predawn light cast long, accusing shadows across the bedroom. The warmth and intimacy of just hours before had evaporated, replaced by the cold, hard reality of the video evidence glowing on Kael's comm device. Lyra watched his face, the way his jaw tightened, the storm in his eyes solidifying into glacial fury. This wasn't just a betrayal of the pack; it was a personal betrayal, a poison delivered by a woman who had once shared his bed.

"They're moving against the northern depot at dawn," Kael's voice was dangerously quiet, all traces of the tender lover gone. He was pure Alpha now, a predator who had scented blood. "She gave them our defensive rotations, our weak points."

He swung his legs out of bed, his movements fluid and purposeful. He dressed with a warrior's efficiency, pulling on black tactical pants and a simple dark tunic. Lyra did the same, her own movements mirroring his. The silken sheets were a distant memory. Now, there was only the mission.

"We confront her together," Lyra stated, not asking. She fastened her own dark clothing, her fingers steady despite the adrenaline beginning to course through her.

Kael paused, his gaze sweeping over her. He saw the determination in her eyes, the set of her jaw. He gave a single, sharp nod. "Together."

They found Ronan waiting outside Seraphina's suite in the residential wing, his posture rigid, two of his most trusted enforcers flanking him. His hazel eyes were hard, the friendly Beta replaced by a cold executioner.

"It's all there, Alpha," Ronan said, his voice low. "Communications, troop movements, everything. She's been feeding them information since before Jax's death. She was likely his backup."

"Has she made any transmission in the last hour?" Kael asked.

"No. She's been silent since the depot coordinates were sent."

"Good." Kael didn't bother knocking. He placed his palm against the biometric lock, and with a sharp crack, the mechanism shattered, the door swinging inward.

Seraphina's suite was a study in opulent decadence, all velvet drapes, perfumed air, and gilded mirrors. She stood in the center of the living area, already dressed as if expecting them. She wore a deep emerald gown, her fiery hair artfully arranged, a smirk playing on her lips that didn't reach her cold, emerald eyes.

"Kael, darling," she purred, completely unfazed by the forced entry. "And you brought your little pet. And Ronan. To what do I owe this... dramatic entrance?"

"The game is over, Sera," Kael's voice was flat, devoid of any past affection. He held up the comm device, the damning video playing on a loop. "You've been feeding our strategies to Nightclaw."

Seraphina's smirk widened. "Oh, that." She waved a dismissive hand. "A girl has to look out for her own interests. You made your choice quite clear when you put that collar on the half-breed." Her eyes raked over Lyra with pure venom. "You cast me aside for that. Did you think I would just fade away quietly?"

"This isn't about being cast aside," Lyra said, her voice cutting through the perfumed air. "This is about dead Silverfang warriors. This is about treason."

"Treason?" Seraphina laughed, a brittle, ugly sound. "I am ensuring the survival of what matters! Korvath understands power. He understands that packs are led by strength, not by... sentiment." She spat the last word at Kael. "You're weak for her. You always have been. I saw it the moment she arrived. The great Kael Draven, brought to his knees by a pair of amber eyes."

Kael took a step forward, his power rolling off him in a wave that made the crystals in the chandelier tremble. "You signed the death warrants of your own pack members. For what? Spite? A bruised ego?"

"For a throne!" Seraphina shrieked, her composure finally cracking. "Korvath promised me a place at his side! He understands my value! When Nightclaw rules this city, I will be a queen, not some discarded whore waiting in the shadows!"

The confession hung in the air, stark and ugly. It was all there—the jealousy, the ambition, the utter lack of loyalty.

"You will be nothing," Kael said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You are a traitor, and you will be judged as one."

Seraphina's eyes darted toward a small, ornate box on her vanity. It was a subtle movement, but Lyra caught it.

"She has a panic button," Lyra said sharply. "A signal to Nightclaw."

In a flash of movement, Seraphina lunged for the box. But Ronan was faster. He crossed the room in a blur, his hand closing around her wrist with a crack that echoed in the room. Seraphina cried out in pain, but her other hand held a hidden, needle-thin dagger, slashing toward his face.

Ronan jerked back, the blade slicing a thin line across his cheekbone. In that split second of distraction, Seraphina twisted, breaking his grip and bolting for the door.

She didn't make it two steps.

Kael moved with the speed of a striking cobra. He didn't use a weapon. His hand shot out, closing around her throat and slamming her back against the wall with enough force to rattle the framed pictures. She gasped, her feet kicking uselessly above the floor, her eyes wide with terror and fury.

"Did you really think," Kael growled, his face inches from hers, his stormy eyes blazing, "that I would let you live after what you've done? After you endangered my mate? My pack?"

"Kael..." Lyra said, her voice firm. She placed a hand on his arm, feeling the tremors of rage running through him. "The pack law demands a public trial for treason. The elders will demand it."

For a long, tense moment, Kael didn't move, his grip like iron on Seraphina's throat. The desire to snap her neck, to end the threat here and now, warred with the laws he was sworn to uphold. Seraphina's face began to turn purple, her struggles weakening.

Then, with a sound of disgust, he released her. She crumpled to the floor, gagging and clutching her throat.

"Take her to the containment cells," Kael commanded Ronan, his voice rough. "Maximum security. No one speaks to her. She will face the council at dawn."

As Ronan and his enforcers hauled a coughing, weeping Seraphina to her feet, Kael turned to Lyra. The fury in his eyes had banked, replaced by a weary resolve. "You were right. The pack needs to see justice done. Not an execution in a bedroom."

Lyra nodded, her heart still pounding. She looked at Seraphina, a pitiful, broken figure now, all her glamour and cunning stripped away, leaving only the rotten core. The sight should have been satisfying, but it only left a cold hollow in Lyra's stomach.

---

The confrontation had taken less than ten minutes, but the aftermath felt eternal. With Seraphina secured, the command center became a whirlwind of activity. Kael had to reroute defenses, change codes, and manage the fallout. The northern depot was reinforced just in time to repel a probing Nightclaw force that had been expecting an easy target.

Lyra stood by the main tactical display, her mind racing. Seraphina's capture was a victory, but it was a reactive one. They were still playing catch-up.

Finn approached, his usual grin absent. "I've been analyzing the data from the relic," he said, pulling up complex energy readings on a secondary screen. "Elias was right. The power surges are getting more volatile. But there's a pattern." He zoomed in on a graph showing wild fluctuations. "See these dips? Right before a major spike. It's like the relic is... gulping for air. Drawing massive power, then struggling to contain it."

Lyra's eyes narrowed, a plan beginning to form. "If we could force it to 'gulp' at the wrong moment... during their ritual..."

"Exactly," Finn said, a spark returning to his eyes. "If we hit their power grid with a focused EMP burst during one of these draw phases, the feedback wouldn't just disrupt the ritual. It could cause a catastrophic failure."

"It's a one-shot gamble," Kael said, joining them, his arms crossed over his chest. "If we miss the timing, we reveal our hand and lose our best chance."

"Then we don't miss," Lyra said, her voice filled with a newfound certainty. She looked from Kael to Finn. "We use the trial."

Kael's brow furrowed. "The trial?"

"Seraphina was their eyes inside. They'll be desperate to know what happened to her, what we know. We hold the public trial. We make a show of it. And we let a 'panicked' confession slip—a false time for a massive, all-out assault on their western flank."

"A diversion," Kael realized, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. "While our real strike force hits the relic with the EMP."

"It's risky," Ronan said, having joined the circle, a fresh bandage on his cheek. "If they see through it..."

"Then we fight them head-on, as we planned anyway," Lyra countered. "But if they take the bait, they'll shift their defenses to the west, leaving the relic vulnerable." She looked at Kael. "We have to be bold. We can't just keep defending. We have to break them."

The room fell silent, the weight of the decision settling on them. It was a audacious, high-stakes plan that relied on deception, timing, and a deep understanding of their enemy's arrogance.

Kael's gaze met Lyra's, and in his stormy eyes, she saw not just agreement, but pride. "Then we break them," he said, his voice final. "Prepare the council. At dawn, we try a traitor. And we set a trap for a king."

The viper had been caught. Now, they would use her to lure out the wolf.

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