CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The formal discussions blur around me like background noise, voices rising and falling in patterns I can't quite grasp.
My mind keeps circling back to the impossible sight before me—Jax standing in the great hall, his arm casually draped around Nora's waist, playing the role of devoted mate with sickening perfection.
What is he doing here?
Yes, he's a prince by blood, but Jax has made no secret of his hatred for the castle. Since his mother's death, he's avoided these halls like they carry plague, claiming the memories are too painful to bear. His sudden appearance, his convenient discovery of a "fated mate"—none of it feels genuine.
And Nora's words about witch activities make my stomach churn with dread. If only she knew that Avery—the very witch she's warning about—serves the man she believes is her destined partner.
"Lady Aubrey?" King Alexander's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "What are your thoughts on increasing border patrols in the affected territories?"
I blink, realizing all eyes have turned to me expectantly.
Heat floods my cheeks as I scramble to form a coherent response.
"I... yes, increased patrols would be wise," I manage, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears.
"The missing wolves suggest coordinated attacks rather than random incidents. "
The words taste like ash in my mouth. How can I offer strategic advice when the real threat sits mere feet away, smiling that charming smile that once made my heart race?
Knox's hand finds mine beneath the table, his fingers intertwining with mine in a gesture of support. The warmth of his touch grounds me, but it also twists the knife of guilt deeper. Here he is, trying to comfort me, while I harbor secrets that could destroy everything he holds dear.
"Exactly my assessment," Nora agrees, her amber eyes bright with determination. "These aren't opportunistic attacks. Someone is systematically targeting vulnerable wolves, particularly the young ones approaching their first shift."
Her words make my suspicions crystallize with sickening clarity. Those missing children, the tortured young wolf we saw in the council chamber—I can't shake the feeling it's all connected to the man now nodding thoughtfully as if he shares her concern.
As the meeting continues, I find myself wondering if Jax truly has no other motive for being here. This sudden appearance, this convenient timing—it all feels too orchestrated to be mere coincidence.
Poor Nora.
My heart aches for the woman who radiates such genuine happiness, completely unaware of what she might be walking into.
I know Avery's capabilities, her toxic jealousy, her vindictive nature.
The witch will never allow Jax to remain with another woman, fated mate or not.
Nora is walking into a trap that will likely cost her everything.
I have to warn her.
The thought crystallizes with desperate clarity. Whatever the cost to myself, I can't let an innocent woman fall victim to whatever game Jax is playing. Nora deserves to know what she's really dealing with.
As the meeting draws to a close and people begin rising from their chairs, I see my chance.
"Nora," I call out, my voice carrying across the thinning crowd.
The moment her name leaves my lips, agony explodes through my skull like lightning. Pain beyond description tears through every nerve ending, making my vision blur and my hands fly to my temples. The familiar signature of Jax's punishment floods my mind.
Through the haze of torment, I lift my gaze and lock eyes with Jax across the room.
The charming expression that once stirred my heart has vanished completely, replaced by something demonic.
His storm-gray eyes burn with cold fury, his lips curved into a cruel smile that promises worse to come if I continue to defy him.
This is his warning. His reminder of who controls whom.
I try to fight against the agony, to push through the pain, and complete my warning to Nora. But the torture intensifies, driving me to my knees as the world spins violently around me. Darkness creeps in from the edges of my vision, threatening to pull me under completely.
My last coherent sight before unconsciousness claims me is Knox's face, his green eyes wide with panic as he rushes toward my collapsing form.