157

Anonymous POV.

The rain fell steadily outside the narrow window, a constant drumming that mirrored the tension in the room. The figure sat at the desk, their fingers tapping the wood in time with the downpour. A stack of papers lay scattered in front of them, but their eyes weren’t focused on the writing. They stared through the window instead, their mind far from the small, dimly lit room they occupied.

Everything was spiraling out of control faster than anticipated.

The plan had been perfect, calculated to the smallest detail. Aldric’s death should have been the final piece in the puzzle—a move that would send Ian into confusion, shattering the already fragile peace in the vampire realm. Yet somehow, it hadn’t gone according to plan. Aldric had been found too soon, discovered before the illusion could fully take root. Ian had reacted swiftly, calling for a lockdown in the realm and putting every force he had into place.

That had not been expected.

The figure clenched their fist, the knuckles turning white. No one was supposed to find the body so quickly. Aldric’s likeness had been crafted with care, a perfect replica that had even fooled the Council. But they should have had more time—time to work, time to lay the groundwork for the final phase.

The door to the room creaked open, and another figure entered, their footsteps barely audible on the wooden floor. They paused, sensing the tension hanging in the air.

“The realm is on high alert,” the newcomer said, their voice low and cautious. “Ian has already begun searching for answers. It won’t be long before he realizes what’s really going on.”

The figure at the desk turned their head slightly, their face still half-shrouded in shadow. “He won’t find out. Not yet.”

“But the werewolves—”

“—have played their part,” the figure interrupted, their voice cutting through the air with sharp authority. “They were never meant to succeed, only to distract. To keep them all occupied while we prepare.”

The newcomer nodded but didn’t seem entirely convinced. They shifted uncomfortably, their gaze flickering to the papers on the desk. “Still… if Ian suspects anything, it could jeopardize—”

“He won’t,” the figure snapped, their patience thinning. “Ian is too preoccupied with protecting Sophia. That is where his attention lies, not here. And as long as his focus is on her, we have the advantage.”

Silence fell between them, the only sound being the relentless rain against the window. The plan was still in motion, but it had to be perfect. Any mistake now would cost them everything. The realm was in disarray, and the timing had to be precise.

“Is everything in place for the next step?” the figure asked after a moment, their voice calmer now.

The newcomer hesitated before nodding. “Yes. The preparations are nearly complete. But there’s something else you should know.”

The figure at the desk finally looked up, their gaze piercing. “What?”

The newcomer swallowed nervously. “Lyanna. She escaped.”

The room seemed to grow colder, the tension thickening. “How?”

“We don’t know. We had her secured, but she managed to break free and kill some of the guards. She went straight to Ian’s group after escaping.”

A long silence followed, the figure’s expression unreadable. Lyanna’s escape was an inconvenience, but it wasn’t a disaster. She had seen too little, understood too little, to truly interfere with the plan. But it was an annoyance nonetheless.

“They know she was taken?” the figure asked, their voice dangerously quiet.

The newcomer nodded. “Yes, but Ian and Jacob kept it from the others at first. They didn’t want to worry Sophia.”

The figure let out a slow, measured breath. “Of course. They’re protecting her. Always protecting her.”

The bitterness in their tone was unmistakable, the hatred toward Sophia clear as day. Sophia was the key to Ian’s weakness, the reason he was distracted, unfocused. As long as she remained alive, Ian would continue to be vulnerable.

But that, too, could be used to their advantage.

“We have to act soon,” the figure said, their mind already shifting to the next phase of the plan. “Lyanna’s escape means we’ve lost some time. We’ll need to accelerate the timeline.”

“Understood,” the newcomer said, though their tone carried a hint of unease. “But what about Sophia? What if Ian strengthens the protection around her?”

The figure’s lips curled into a cold smile. “He can protect her all he wants. But in the end, it won’t matter.”

The newcomer didn’t press the issue further. They knew better than to question the figure’s judgment, even if doubt still gnawed at them. There was a larger plan at work, one that had been set in motion long before Ian and his council even realized what was happening.

“The attack on the condo,” the figure continued, their voice turning more thoughtful. “Was it successful?”

“We disrupted things, but they weren’t there when it happened. We did manage to leave a clear enough message, though. They know it’s not over.”

“Good,” the figure said with satisfaction. “It’s important to keep them off balance. Make them believe they’re constantly being watched, targeted. The more paranoid Ian becomes, the easier it will be to make our next move.”

The newcomer nodded, still uncertain. “But if they realize it’s not the werewolves—”

“They won’t,” the figure interrupted again, their tone final. “Not yet. We’ve made sure of that. The werewolves have served their purpose. By the time Ian uncovers the truth, it will be too late.”

The figure rose from the desk, moving to the window to peer through the rain-soaked glass. Outside, the night was dark and heavy, the storm intensifying. But within the shadows, there was a sense of purpose. A plan unfolding with each passing hour.

“Ian’s greatest mistake,” the figure said quietly, “is believing that strength alone will save him. He thinks he can protect what matters to him, but he’s forgotten that the real danger is not in what he sees—it’s in what he doesn’t see.”

The newcomer said nothing, sensing that the conversation was over. With a brief nod, they turned and left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind them.

The figure remained at the window, watching as the storm raged on outside. The pieces were all in place now. Aldric’s death had only been the beginning. The disruption in the realm, the attacks, the growing tension between Ian and his allies—it was all part of the larger design. A design that Ian would never see coming until it was too late.

And Sophia… poor, naïve Sophia, who thought her troubles would end with Aldric’s death. She had no idea what was coming for her. The baby she carried was a complication, but not an insurmountable one. In time, all obstacles could be removed.

The figure’s gaze hardened as they turned away from the window, moving back to the desk. There was still work to be done, still pieces to move into place.

But soon, very soon, everything would fall exactly where it needed to be.

And when that happened, there would be no more chaos. No more uncertainty. Only victory.