Chapter 29
Maya
I hear the raised voices before I even reach the door.
Logan’s deep timbre, sharp with anger, cuts through the heavy oak like it’s paper.
Ares’s rumbling bass follows, the words indistinct but the defensive tone unmistakable.
I pause, my hand hovering over the doorknob.
The last thing I want is to walk into the middle of an Alpha confrontation, especially when I’m already exhausted from another night of fitful sleep plagued by memories of Thane’s laboratory.
Cillian appears at my side, materializing from the shadows of the corridor with his usual silent grace. His pale eyes meet mine, a question in them I can’t quite interpret.
“Logan and Ares,” I explain unnecessarily. “Sounds like they’re about to tear each other’s throats out.”
“Again,” Cillian sighs, his expression resigned. “We should intervene before the Queen Mother’s priceless antiques become casualties.”
I nod, squaring my shoulders as Cillian pushes open the door. The argument hits us like a physical wave, the tension in the room so thick it feels like walking through syrup.
“—don’t care what excuse you’ve concocted!” Logan is saying, his golden eyes blazing as he paces the length of the ornate sitting room. “Poe is gone, and you knew about it. You helped him leave!”
Ares stands with his back to the fireplace, his massive frame coiled with tension. “I didn’t help him do anything,” he growls, hands flexing at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to form fists. “And I sure as hell didn’t know he was planning to—“
He breaks off as he notices our entrance, his green eyes flicking to me with something that might be relief. Logan follows his gaze, his expression shifting from rage to something more controlled when he sees us.
“What’s happened?” Cillian asks, moving further into the room with the careful precision of someone approaching a wounded animal. “Where’s Poe?”
Logan’s jaw works, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. “Gone,” he says finally, the single word loaded with betrayal. “He left with the Queen Mother’s security chief in the middle of the night. To attack one of the fertility clinics.”
The news hits me like a bucket of ice water. “What?” I breathe, trying to process what I’m hearing. “Poe left to…to destroy a clinic? Without telling anyone?”
“It appears that way,” Logan confirms, his voice deadly quiet.
I glance at Ares, whose expression has gone carefully blank.
“And you knew nothing about this?” Ares meets my gaze steadily.
“I knew Poe had been meeting with Dani—the security chief,” he clarifies for my benefit.
“I didn’t know they were planning an assault on a clinic.
If I had...” He trails off, the implication clear.
He would have stopped it. Or at least tried to.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Logan says, running a hand through his hair in a rare gesture of agitation. “What matters is that Poe and Dani were captured by guardians at the Westhollow clinic last night. They’re being held for questioning, and it’s only a matter of time before they’re identified.”
My stomach drops. “Captured?” I repeat, horror washing through me. “By the king’s guardians?”
Logan nods grimly. “The Queen Mother received word this morning. Her sources inside the palace say the guardians don’t yet know who they’ve captured—Poe and Dani were in disguise, carrying false identification. But once they’re brought before the king…”
He doesn’t need to finish the thought. We all know what happens to prisoners who face Thane’s interrogation. The memory of cold metal against my skin, of clinical precision as he cataloged my reactions to pain, rises unbidden. I push it down, focusing on the immediate crisis.
“We have to help them,” I say, the words escaping before I can consider their implications. “We can’t just leave them to be executed.”
“And how exactly do you propose we do that?” Logan demands, his frustration clearly redirecting toward me. “Storm the palace? Break into the dungeons? Start a war we’re not prepared to fight?”
“We can’t abandon them either,” I counter, refusing to back down despite the anger radiating from him. “Poe is pack. He and Dani are dead if we leave them where they are.”
“After they went behind my back,” Logan snaps. “Undermining my authority. Risking everything we’ve worked for on a half-baked rescue mission that was doomed from the start.”
“Maybe he had his reasons,” I suggest, watching Logan’s face carefully. “Maybe he felt he couldn’t wait any longer while you... what, exactly? What have we been doing here, Logan?”
Logan’s eyes narrow dangerously. “It’s only been a few days—.”
“And in the meantime, how many women have been brought to one of those clinics?” I challenge, anger rising to match his. “How many have suffered while we sit here in safety, planning and preparing and doing nothing meaningful?”
A tense silence falls over the room. Logan stares at me, something complicated passing across his features—anger, yes, but also a flicker of what might be guilt or shame.
“She’s right,” Cillian says quietly, breaking the silence. “Poe shouldn’t have done this, but I understand why.”
Logan turns to him, betrayal flashing in his golden eyes. “You too? I expected this from Maya, but you, Cillian?”
“I’m not taking sides,” Cillian says, his voice steady despite the tension crackling between them. “I’m stating facts. We stayed here to fight, to make a difference.”
Logan’s expression hardens. “You think I don’t know that? You think I’m not aware of what’s happening in those clinics? But rushing in without proper planning, without adequate support, is suicide. And suicide doesn’t help anyone.”
“Neither does inaction,” Ares says, surprising me by joining the criticism. “I’m not saying Poe was right to go behind your back, but at least he was doing something.”
Logan’s head snaps toward him, golden eyes blazing. “So that’s it? You’re all turning against me now? After everything we’ve been through together?”
“No one is turning against you,” I say, softening my tone despite my frustration. “We’re just saying we understand what Poe was trying to do.”
“My priorities have always been clear,” Logan says, his voice tight with controlled anger. “Keep the pack safe. Build enough support to challenge the king successfully. Create lasting change, not just temporary disruption.”
“And the Omegas in those clinics?” I ask quietly. “Where do they fall on your list of priorities?”
Logan turns away, moving to the window that overlooks the palace gardens. For a long moment, he stands in silence, his back to us, his shoulders rigid with tension. When he finally speaks, his voice carries a weariness I’ve rarely heard from him.
“This is all so dangerous and none of you seem to appreciate how much.”
"Are you willing to challenge your father directly?" Ares demands, stepping closer to Logan, his green eyes blazing. "Right now? Is that what you're prepared to do to save Poe?"
The room goes deadly quiet. I watch as something flickers across Logan's face—a flash of raw fear, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it if not for the way Cillian shifts beside me, sensing it too through our damaged pack bonds.
"I..." Logan begins, then stops, seeming to struggle with words that don't come easily to him.
"That's what I thought," Ares says, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "If you can't face your father now, then we need to run. We're all dead anyway if we stay."
"Running won't save Poe," Cillian points out quietly.
"Poe is already doomed," Ares snaps. "And we'll be too if we don't leave now."
I watch the argument escalate, frustration building inside me with each passing second. They're all thinking like Alphas—direct confrontation, shows of force, who's stronger, who's faster, who's willing to risk more. It's getting us nowhere.
"Stop," I say, the word cutting through their arguing. "Just stop. This isn't helping."
To my surprise, they all fall silent, turning to look at me.
"We're approaching this like Alphas," I say, the idea crystallizing as I speak. "All brute force and direct confrontation. But maybe that's not the way to do this."
Logan raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
I take a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. "Maybe instead of trying to overpower the king or outrun him, we need to be smarter. More... covert."
"You mean like an Omega would think," Cillian says, understanding dawning in his pale eyes.
I nod, feeling more confident now. "Exactly. Omegas have survived for generations by working around Alphas, not confronting them head-on. By finding the cracks in the system and exploiting them."
"What are you suggesting?" Logan asks, his full attention on me now.
“We use subtlety instead of force,” I explain, the plan crystallizing in my mind. “The king expects a direct challenge He’s prepared for that. What he’s not prepared for is something more...insidious.”
“Like what?” Logan asks, his tone skeptical but not dismissive.
I meet his gaze steadily. “Like poison.”
The word falls into the room like a stone, creating ripples of shock and consideration. Logan’s eyes widen slightly, genuine surprise replacing his earlier anger.
“Poison,” he repeats, testing the word as if it’s written in a foreign language. “You want to poison the king.”
“It’s efficient,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the enormity of what I’m suggesting. “It’s quiet. It doesn’t require an army or a direct confrontation. And it’s something he won’t be expecting from you.”
“Because it’s dishonorable,” Logan says, though there’s more thoughtfulness than judgment in his tone. “Because no one will follow an Alpha who did something so shameful."
"That's why you're not going to do it. I am."
Logan just stares at me, as if his brain is fully incapable of comprehending the words. As understanding dawns, a storm descends over his expression. "Absolutely not."