The silence in the alcove was a physical weight. Dust settled on their skin like ash.
Emin stood guard at the entrance, his massive frame blocking the dim light. Damaris sat in the shadows, staring at his hands as if he could find the mathematical error that had led to their near-burial.
But the center of the rot was Asher. He lay curled on the cold stone, a hollow shell. His despair was an agonizing vacuum in the Mate Bond, sucking the heat right out of Ravenna's core.
Ravenna knelt beside him. She didn't try to pull him up. She just pressed her hand against his cold back. She knew force would bounce off him. Logic would just feel like more of Nokon's lies. Only the truth—the ugly, jagged kind—would work.
"We need you, Asher," Ravenna whispered. "I need my eyes in the dark."
No response. The bond just echoed Nokon's voice: 'The perfect, obedient catalyst.'
Ravenna closed her eyes and reached into that cold reservoir of earth magic. She didn't send him peace. She sent him a raw, unfiltered surge of her own shame.
I see your rot, Asher. I feel it. It's blinding.
Asher's shoulder twitched. The void in his mind flickered, showing her a glimpse of his nightmare: every choice he'd made for two years was just a string being pulled by a man in a black robe.
Ravenna pushed harder, shoving her own deepest secrets into the link.
You think you're poison? I'm a walking apocalypse. I killed people at the docks. I'm a weapon that could crack this world in half. That doesn't make me a tool—it makes me dangerous. And you're dangerous, too.
The confession hit him like a physical strike. He felt the weight of her guilt and realized his shame wasn't special. It was just a shared language.
Asher finally moved. He uncurled, turning to face her. His eyes, usually dancing with cynical light, were flat and dead.
"He didn't just use me," Asher rasped. His voice sounded like it had been dragged over broken glass. "He made me believe I was free. I was just a puppet, waiting for the strings to pull you into the trap."
"He used your trust," Ravenna countered. "That makes him the poison, not you. Look around, Asher. We've all got trust issues."
She gestured to the others. "The Alpha can't trust his own blood. The Warlock can't trust his own heart. And I can't trust my power not to level a city. You taught me to use the chaos. Use the anger now. Point it at him."
A flicker of the old Rogue fire sparked in his eyes. It wasn't joy. It was pure, concentrated vengeance.
Damaris approached, his movements stiff but professional.
"Emotion is inefficient, Rogue," Damaris stated, his voice softer than usual. "However, hatred focused on a single target is a potent resource. Nokon's betrayal was rooted in arrogance. He fed you intel because he thought you were too small to matter."
Damaris adjusted a cufflink, his eyes tracking a charcoal map he'd sketched on the floor.
"He thinks he's intellectually superior. We're going to use that vanity to gut him."
Emin moved in, his presence acting as a secondary anchor. "He expected a rogue to run to his Alpha. He didn't anticipate the Hybrid would break my authority and form an alliance with a Coven defector. His plan failed the second Ravenna forced the synchronization."
"He planned for one variable," Ravenna said. "We're four. And we're pissed off."
Asher sat up. The paralyzed void was gone, replaced by a cold, functional fury. He even managed a weak, bitter smile.
"Well," Asher said. "At least now I know why I hate fancy robes so much. It's not a fashion choice; it's a trauma response."
The tension in the room snapped. Emin let out a low, rough huff—the Lycan equivalent of a laugh.
"See?" Ravenna said, handing him a ration pack. "We're all just trauma responses here."
Alda slipped back into the alcove. "Nokon has the Anima Stone. He won't leave. He's waiting for reinforcements, and he's already working the Stone. The ambient magic is starting to bleed."
Damaris pointed to his map. "He'll seal the repository with Coven wards. He'll expect a frontal assault or a Pack-style distraction."
"He knows my escape routes," Asher added, his eyes sharp. "He'll have them rigged."
"Then we don't use yours," Emin stated. He slammed his fist into the stone. "We use mine. I'm going to create the noise. I have a loyal cell near Cinderport. I'll order them to hit Nyzor's supply lines. It'll be a massive, loud distraction."
He looked at Ravenna, and she felt the magnitude of the choice through the bond.
"I'm becoming a traitor to the Elder," Emin said, his voice hard as iron. "But you are the Pack's true destiny. While I draw his fire, the three of you take the deep mining channels. They're unstable, non-magical, and Nokon won't be looking there."
"It's a suicide run," Asher noted. "Nokon will know it's you, Alpha."
"Good," Emin replied. "I want him to know. I want him focused on me while you three take the Stone."
The alliance was no longer a forced truce. It was a lethal, unified machine.