To heal a Rogue
Chapter 37: Love Makes Fools of Kings

Chapter 37: Love Makes Fools of Kings

JOHANN

A hush fell, the sort born of panic. I could hear frantic, muffled mumbling on the other end, the kind of desperate negotiation that happens when men realize the world they thought was theirs is about to collapse inward. When the next voice came through, it was rougher, steadier, the voice of someone who had already glimpsed his own ending and was simply taking measure of it.

It was probably my fall guy.

"I have to die?" he asked, and for a second, I thought I heard something like relief in the gravel of his tone, as if the certainty of a clean ending was preferable to the sickening suspense of waiting.

"Yes," I replied, and I let the word settle between us, heavy as a stone. "Are you afraid?"

"No," he said, no tremor in his answer.

"Good." I let a smile thread itself through my words, the kind that communicated as much threat as comfort, and then I straightened, my gaze catching my own reflection in the window’s dark glass. "You will come back tonight, just as you are, a criminal made for this stage. The story will be that word reached you of her sentence, that she is to be made a Breeder. She is one of your own, after all, someone you were forced to abandon in the aftermath of the assassination. So, in some misplaced act of mercy, you will return for her, believing death to be kinder than the fate that awaits her. You will kill her, and then yourself, or you will let the sentinels do what must be done, all in full view of every Alpha and Luna gathered in this territory. By morning, the rogue network will have reclaimed its place in the nightmares of every packhouse, and I will personally ensure that your sacrifice is not forgotten. The promise of the bite will be honored."

A brief silence came next. A pause that seemed almost respectful. "How do we go about it?" the scarred one asked, his voice accepting, the resignation of a man who understood that every choice he had made had led him directly to this moment. There was no fear left in it, only the grim clarity of a condemned man ready to walk the last mile.

"I will send the details," I said, and cut the call without waiting for further protest or question.

For a long moment, I stood there, the phone still balanced in my palm, feeling the tremor of adrenaline fighting the dull gravity of what I had set in motion. I let a smile pull at my mouth, not from triumph but from the cold satisfaction of inevitability.

Lysander’s rise would be scorched to ash before it could truly begin. An Alpha King had already been murdered during the time they were supposed to be together. Word was already spreading around. Though it was heavily stifled by the elders and their endless swift propaganda.

Still.... If the girl who was supposed to be publicly punished died next, alongside another terror attack in a place meant to represent the very height of royal security, there would be no recovering from it. Not with every witness who mattered gathered beneath the same roof. Not on the very night Lysander was meant to be presented as the future of the crown and publicly named its heir. His enemies would tear him apart with it. He would be branded incompetent, incapable of protecting his own people, much less an entire kingdom. His claim would be ruined before the crown could ever settle on his head.

Yet as the silence deepened around me, I could not ignore the words that had hung in the air during that last conversation. The rogue’s insistence that the girl could not have been unharmed—fine, completely untouched, not after three of the so-called special rounds had been aimed at her for the sole purpose of ending it.

Something about it gnawed at the edges of my certainty, pricking at my sense of how this world was supposed to work. I needed to see that for myself, needed to lay eyes on the impossible.

So I left my chambers, moving quickly through the dim corridors and down the stairwells, past sentinels who straightened at my approach, until I reached the holding cells in the lower levels of the estate. There, at the entrance, I found a sentinel standing rigid, his gaze flicking up at me.

"Take me to the cell holding the woman who killed my father," I ordered, my voice cool with command.

He bowed low, the movement practiced. "Alpha Johann. Alpha Lysander already came for her. He released her hours ago."

I felt something hot and immediate surge through my chest, a rush of disbelief and anger. "He released her?" I echoed, the words thick with incredulity.

"Yes, Alpha Johann."

"He released her?" I repeated, certain I had misunderstood him despite the fact that there was very little room for ambiguity in what he had said.

"Well... ehm... yes, Alpha. That is what I said."

I felt my jaw tighten.

Of course Lysander had.

For a moment, I said nothing, trying to understand what could possibly have possessed Lysander to remove her from the cells, when putting her there had been a necessary evil. He had practically fought them over the breeder sentence. He had publicly challenged me and even accused me of things because of the damn girl. Now, apparently, he had simply walked down here and released her as though the collective decision for her to be locked up meant nothing.

All for a girl he had known for what, a day or even less?

I frowned.

"I do not understand my cousin’s obsession with that girl," I muttered. "This is beginning to reach realms of weird."

"I agree too."

My head snapped toward the sentinel.

The sentinel hesitated, clearly weighing whether to continue, but he eventually got over it and kept talking. "He also attacked one of our own for striking her. If I did not know better, I would say the girl has charmed him somehow."

I turned and fixed him with a long stare. "What did you say?"

"My apologies, Alpha Johann," he said quickly. "Forgive my insolence. I should not have spoken."

I stared at him, irritation already beginning to crawl beneath my skin.

"Just fucking spit it out. What exactly did I hear you say?"

He swallowed, uncertainty flickering across his features. "I said I believe the girl has charmed him, Alpha Johann. But I apologize. Profusely. I did not mean it. I swear I meant no disrespect to Alpha Lysander, or to you, or to anyone. I should never have opened my mouth in the first place, much less to say such madness. It was an improper thing to suggest, Alpha. Completely improper. I spoke without thinking, and I sincerely beg your forgiveness. Please."

For a long moment, I simply watched him, feeling the shape of understanding click into place behind my eyes, the sudden certainty of a puzzle solved. I snapped my fingers quietly, something like warmth spreading through me after a long frost. Of course. It all made sense now.

My cousin was in love again. And I knew how far Lysander could go when he was in love. This was getting interesting.