Chapter 116

ADAM

It was time.

The tension in the air was thick, humming with the anticipation of something irreversible. We'd spent days—weeks—planting seeds, threading false trails, letting Caedmon overhear whispers and glimpses of invented weaknesses. We'd let him believe he was winning.

But the truth was, we had been building a cage around him one calculated word at a time.

I stood at the edge of the training field, arms crossed as the early morning mist curled around my boots. Across the grass, Austin was speaking with Fares and Alex, keeping their voices low, but I could see the edge in their posture. Sasha lingered behind them, more solemn than usual. He'd played his part perfectly—letting Caedmon think he was distracted, easy to manipulate.

Every single one of us had a role.

"He's moving," Alex said through the comms, his voice clear in my earpiece.

"Let him get to the courtyard," I murmured back. "We need him surrounded."

Our false intel had worked better than expected. Rosalie's spell cloaked the secure documents, making Caedmon believe he'd stumbled upon a hidden archive about the border defenses. We knew he wouldn't resist. And now, just as we’d hoped, he was bringing the information to one of the relay points the neighboring pack had established near the forest's edge.

But he wasn’t going to make it that far.

"Now," I said.

Cassius struck first—emerging from the shadows to grab Caedmon by the throat and pin him against the wall. Fares and two guards moved in immediately, spells crackling in the air to bind him. The element of surprise left him stunned. But only for a second.

He fought.

Fangs bared, he let out a snarl that rippled with ancient power, enough to make the earth shudder beneath our feet. But it wasn’t enough. Not against a coordinated strike. Not against magic and iron-threaded steel inscribed with runes.

We didn’t kill him. Not yet. We needed answers.

By the time I reached them, Caedmon was bound in enchanted restraints—iron-threaded steel inscribed with runes, each mark siphoning his strength with every movement. He looked up at me, breathing heavily, eyes alight with fury and—just as we’d hoped—confusion.

"You set me up," he spat.

I crouched in front of him. "You’re smarter than I thought. Took you long enough."

He struggled, but the chains held. Rosalie’s work, reinforced by Leila’s suggestion to blend rune magic into the restraints.

"Your allies won’t come for you," I said. "They ran the moment they sensed our trap. We missed them, for now—but not forever."

He tried to mask it, but I saw the flicker in his eyes. He hadn’t known his backup was already gone.

Austin joined me, silent at first, then spoke with a voice like thunder. "You wanted to tear this place apart from the inside. You used our trust, our hospitality. And for what? Some twisted idea of purity?"

Caedmon’s smile was slow and venomous. "Your kind will never understand. You're the future’s poison."

"And you're history," Austin snapped back.

We didn’t argue more. What would’ve been the point? He would lie, deflect, try to twist our words. We brought him to the holding chamber beneath the council hall—wards built into every wall, a blend of ancient protections and modern engineering. We didn’t need torture. We had the truth. And patience.

Alex handed me the datapad with the surveillance footage. Caedmon’s conversations with the neighboring pack. His coded notes. The false plans he copied, the messages he left hidden near the old pine tree on the northern border. All of it was there.

"This is enough to justify exile or execution," Alex said.

"Not yet," I replied. "He’s the key to the rest of them. He’s not the root—he’s the blade. Someone else forged him."

That night, as I sat outside the infirmary waiting for Aria to finish her latest checkup, I felt the weight of it settle over me. We'd won a battle—but not the war.

The pack Caedmon had worked with was still out there, and they knew more than they should.

Aria appeared beside me and sat down without a word, her fingers slipping into mine. Her presence, her warmth—it was the only thing that steadied me.

"Is it done?" she asked.

"For now," I said. "He's locked away. But the rest… they’re ghosts again."

She leaned her head on my shoulder. "Then we’ll hunt them down together."

And I believed her.

Because Caedmon may have tried to destroy us from within—but in doing so, he reminded us of who we really were.

A family. A pack. A force stronger than fate.

And no matter how long it took, we would finish what we started.

It was a miracle none of Caedmon’s spies had picked up on the change in Aria. Even I could barely tell sometimes—thanks to the flowing sweaters, the oversized scarves Rosalie had enchanted for subtle misdirection, and the clever ways Aria arranged herself when she sat. Magic had played its part, too: a glamour Rosalie maintained daily, not strong enough to mask a full pregnancy, but just enough to dull the hints for now.

She hated hiding. I could see it in the way her hands would sometimes rest protectively on her belly, only to pull away as if remembering she had to pretend it didn’t exist.

Every day she played that role, I admired her more. Carrying our children, keeping our secret, and pretending she wasn’t fighting exhaustion with every breath—it was more than brave. It was war. And she was winning.