Chapter 20
Ares
The tablet screen shatters against the wall, glass and plastic exploding in a satisfying burst of destruction. I don’t remember throwing it—just the white-hot rage that consumed me when I read the message.
Maya and Cillian never arrived at their destination.
My chest heaves with each breath, heart hammering against my ribs like it wants to break free. The wolf inside me—the primal Alpha instinct I usually keep chained—strains against its restraints, demanding action. Demanding blood.
“Feel better now?” Poe asks from his position on the sofa, not bothering to look up from the second tablet he’s scrolling through. His voice carries that infuriating calm that makes me want to put my fist through his face.
“Where are they?” I demand, stalking across the room to loom over him. “The message said they never reached the original rendezvous point. What the fuck happened, Poe?”
He finally glances up, his ice-chip eyes meeting mine without a hint of concern. “They’re fine.”
“Fine?” I repeat, my voice dropping dangerously low. “They’re missing.”
“They’re not missing,” Poe corrects, setting his tablet aside with deliberate care. “They’ve been redirected.”
The casual way he says it—like we’re talking about a package delivery rather than the safety of our packmates—makes something snap inside me. I grab the front of his shirt, hauling him to his feet with one hand.
“You knew,” I growl, bringing my face inches from his. “You fucking knew the route was changing.”
Poe doesn’t resist my grip, doesn’t try to break free. He just watches me with those cold, calculating eyes. “Of course I knew. I arranged it.”
The admission hits me like a physical blow. I release him abruptly, stepping back as the implications cascade through my mind. “You deliberately kept us in the dark. You sent them somewhere else without telling any of us.”
“I’m telling you now,” Poe says, straightening his shirt with irritating composure. “I just wanted to ensure that Logan didn’t find out.”
“Are you serious?”
“These are dangerous times. We already know he can’t be trusted to tell us things he doesn’t think we need to know, why should we do any different?”
“Logan isn’t keeping anything us from now.”
Poe’s expression shifts, something like pity crossing his features. “Are you sure about that, Ares? Are you sure you know everything our illustrious pack Alpha and prince decides?”
The question lands like a knife between my ribs, sharp and precise. Because the truth is, I’m not sure. Not anymore. Logan has been different for a long time. More secretive. More calculating. Less the commander I followed into battle and more the prince playing political games.
“Where are they?” I ask again, fighting to keep my voice level.
“Safe,” Poe replies, moving to the window to check the perimeter—a habit we all share after years of watching each other’s backs. “At a secondary location. They’ll be moving again soon.”
“Why?” I demand, following him across the room. “Why the change? Why not tell me immediately?”
Poe turns to face me, his expression unreadable. “Because I need to make sure we don’t have a leak.”
Indignant anger mixes with a rare feeling of hurt. “So you don’t trust me, either?”
“If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now,” Poe says, his voice matter-of-fact in a way that reminds me of exactly who—and what—he is.
The shadow. The knife in the dark. The one who eliminates problems before the rest of us even know they exist. “But Maya and Cillian are valuable to the king. Turning them over would earn any of us a pardon. I have to be sure they’re safe. ”
“You really think I would betray this pack? That’s fucked up, Poe.”
Poe studies me for a long moment, his head tilted slightly as if seeing me for the first time. “It wasn’t personal, Ares.”
“Feels pretty damn personal from where I’m standing,” I snap. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on? You and Logan making unilateral decisions without discussing anything with the rest of us?”
Poe is silent for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice carries a weight I’ve rarely heard from him. “The rebellion is changing things, Ares. Compartmentalizing information isn’t just smart—it’s necessary. The fewer people who know the full picture, the safer we all are.”
“So you’re saying I should just accept being kept in the dark?” I turn to face him, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “That I should just trust you and Logan know what’s best?”
“I’m saying,” Poe replies, meeting my gaze steadily, “that you’re assuming you’re the one I don’t trust.”
His words are a unique form of devastation. “You really don’t trust Logan anymore, do you?”
Poe doesn’t answer directly, but his silence speaks volumes.
“That’s insane,” I say, the words coming out harsher than intended. “Logan would never betray the pack. He’d never put Maya in danger. Not after everything he’s done to keep her.”
“I didn’t say I think he’s about to betray us, but we’re only at the beginning of a very hard road,” Poe says, his voice carefully neutral. “But he’s the prince. The king’s son. His connection to the crown runs deeper than any of us fully understand.”
I shake my head, rejecting the suggestion outright. “No. Not Logan. He might be changing, he might be making decisions I don’t agree with, but he’s not a traitor.”
“Not a traitor to us, you mean,” he replies, eyebrow raised. I hear genuine emotion in his voice—a weariness, a resignation that makes him seem suddenly older. “I hope you’re right, for all our sakes.”
We fall into silence, the weight of suspicion and doubt settling over the room like a physical presence. I’ve spent years—most of my adult life—following Logan without question. The idea that he might be compromised, even unintentionally, is almost too much to process.
“So what happens now?” I ask finally, needing to focus on something concrete, something actionable.
“Now we finish packing,” Poe drawls, tone sardonic. “We leave at midnight, as planned. Same objective—reunite with Maya and Cillian, then make a plan for overthrowing the throne. Easy enough, right?”
“And Logan?” I ask, the question hanging between us.
Poe’s expression hardens, something cold and calculating replacing the momentary vulnerability. “Logan won’t get the chance to compromise us,” he says, the words falling into the room like stones. “I’ll make sure of it.”
The threat is implicit but unmistakable. Poe has made a decision—one that puts him directly at odds with our Alpha. One that could tear the pack apart from within.
And I’m caught in the middle, forced to choose between the commander I’ve followed into battle and the cold-eyed assassin who might be right about the danger we face.
“You’re talking about challenging him,” I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “About taking control of the pack.”
“I’m talking about survival,” Poe corrects, his voice soft but implacable. “About doing whatever is necessary to keep the Omegas who need us alive. If it comes to it, I’ll stand against any threat. Logan included.”
“And if I stand with Logan?” I ask, the question a challenge and a test all at once.
Poe meets my gaze without flinching. “Then you’d better be very sure of your choice, Ares,” he says quietly. “Because there won’t be a second chance to make it.”
The threat hangs between us, unspoken but clear. Poe has drawn a line in the sand, and he expects me to choose a side. His. Or Logan’s.
But as I turn away, resuming my preparations for tonight’s departure, I can’t help wondering if there’s a third option—one that preserves the pack without forcing us into civil war.
One that protects Maya and Cillian without requiring me to betray either the Alpha I’ve followed for years or the cold-eyed assassin who might be right about the danger we face.
I don’t know. And that uncertainty—that crack in the foundation of loyalty I’ve built my life upon—terrifies me more than any external threat we’ve ever faced.
Because a pack divided against itself cannot stand. And if we fall, we all fall together.