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86 Brutal Plan 

Sera 

“What is she doing here?” Fenris demanded. 

Yvara stepped up behind Fenris. She glared at Irina. “We already have too many suspects for this mess, Sera. We don’t need her involved.” 

I shook my head quickly. “Do not worry about her. She isn’t going to say a word. She won’t betray us 

Fenris and Yvara stared at each other for a brief moment. They looked at my mother, then looked back at 

“So what is the plan?” Fenris asked, stepping back to let us inside. 

I walked into the room and pulled my mother in behind me. Fenris shut the cracked doors and locked the iron latch. 

I looked at my mother, ready to explain exactly what she needed to do. But Irina wasn’t looking at me. She stood completely motionless. 

She was staring directly at the center of the room. 

Kael was still lying on the stone floor. The healer was kneeling beside him, his hands slick with blood, pressing hard against the elder’s twisted, broken neck. Kael was struggling to breathe. A wet, horrific gurgling sound filled the quiet room as he actively drowned in his own fluid. 

Wolves were incredibly resilient creatures. It was very difficult to kill them. So it wasn’t a surprise that Kael was still breathing, even with a jagged piece of bone sticking out of his throat. 

I reached out and tapped my mother’s shoulder. 

She broke from her trance with a sharp gasp. She looked around the blood-stained room, her eyes wide with terror. I could hear her heart beating frantically against her ribs. It was beating so fast and so loud that I was sure every other wolf in the room could hear it echoing off the stone walls. 

“Who… who did this?” Irina asked. Her voice shook violently. 

Everyone in the room was quiet. 

“I did,” Fenris answered flatly. 

Irina choked on her breath. She stepped backward in pure panic, trying to get away from the massive Alpha. One of the guards standing by the wall immediately stepped forward and caught her by the arm, holding her firmly in place. 

I walked forward and pointed down at Kael. 

“This is the face I want you to replicate,” I told her. 

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Irina stared at Kael in absolute fear. 

Kael was very much alive, and he could hear every single word we were saying. His eyes darted frantically toward me. I could imagine the sheer horror he was experiencing. He was lying there completely helpless, paralyzed by the pain, listening to us plot to steal his identity before we killed him. 

I turned away from Kael and looked at Fenris and Yvara. I finally explained the entire plan. 

“My mother can mold flesh and bone with her magic,” I said, keeping my voice steady and direct. “We have to find someone in the pack who has the exact same physical proportions as Kael. The same height, the same build. And we have to transfer Kael’s face onto them.” 

I looked Fenris right in the eyes. 

“But this person has to be someone you completely trust,” I continued. “Someone completely loyal to you. They will take Kael’s face, they will take Kael’s seat on the council, and they will vote exactly how you tell them to vote. Once the face is transferred, we finish snapping Kael’s neck and burn his body in the woods.” 

“No,” Irina gasped. She shook her head so hard her blonde hair whipped across her face. “No, Seraphina. You do not understand what you are asking me to do. The ritual… the clay takes the exact imprint of the living flesh. It bonds to the life force. I cannot do it to a man who is actively choking on his own broken bones. It is barbaric.” 

“You had no problem practicing your barbarism on a helpless ten-year-old girl in Valdris,” I shot back, turning to face her. “You didn’t care about the ethics when my father needed a political favor settled. Do not pretend to have a moral compass now.” 

Irina opened her mouth to argue, but the sound of wet, tearing flesh interrupted her. 

The healer pulled his hands away from Kael’s neck. He looked up, his face completely pale. He was terrified. He looked from the blood on the floor to Fenris. 

“Alpha,” the healer stammered, his voice cracking. “This is witchcraft. The elders strictly forbid southern magic in the keep. It violates the old laws.” 

Fenris didn’t yell. He simply walked around the cracked wooden table. His heavy boots echoed loudly on the stone. He stopped right in front of the kneeling healer. He looked down at the man. 

“The elders are not in this room,” Fenris stated. The sheer, crushing weight of his presence pressed down on the healer. “I am. And I am telling you to keep him breathing until the Queen is finished. Do you understand me?” 

The healer swallowed hard. He looked at Fenris’s blood-stained knuckles. He looked back at Kael. “Yes, Alpha.” He pressed his hands back against Kael’s torn throat. 

Yvara uncrossed her arms. She looked at me, completely ignoring my mother’s panic. She was focused entirely on the logistics of the execution. 

“Who takes the face?” Yvara asked. “Kael is a sitting elder. He has a household. He has a voice on the 

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council. We cannot just give his face to a random foot soldier. They won’t know his mannerisms. They won’t know his history. If he acts entirely different tomorrow morning, Chief Vane will know immediately.” 

Fenris looked around the room. He looked at the two guards standing by the door. 

He locked eyes with the massive man who had opened the Great Hall doors for me earlier. The guard with the jagged scar cutting through his thick beard. 

“Bram,” Fenris said. 

The guard stepped forward instantly. He stood at attention. He was exactly Kael’s height, possessing the same thick, barrel-chested build. 

“You stood guard outside Kael’s private quarters for three years before I moved you to the Great Hall,” Fenris stated. It wasn’t a question. “You know his habits. You know his temper. You know how he speaks 

to his servants.” 

Bram looked down at Kael. Kael’s eyes were wide, pleading silently with the guard. Bram’s face remained completely cold. He didn’t show a single ounce of pity for the dying elder. 

“He drinks a cup of watered wine before bed,” Bram said, his voice a deep, gravelly monotone. “He drags his left foot slightly when he is tired. He hates the cold, and he constantly complains about the draft in the eastern watchtowers.” 

Bram looked up from Kael and met Fenris’s gaze. 

“My parents died in the southern raids five years ago, Alpha,” Bram said. The anger in his voice was old and completely hardened. “Kael voted to let them rot on the border because they were not pure-blooded 

Ironmaw. He refused to send reinforcements.” 

Bram took another step forward. He looked at my mother. 

“Give me his face,” Bram demanded. “I will gladly take his seat.” 

Irina realized there was absolutely no way out of this room. She looked at Fenris, she looked at the heavily armed guard volunteering for blood magic, and she looked at me. She surrendered. 

“I need a heavy stone bowl,” Irina said, her voice completely devoid of emotion. “And I need boiling water. 

Now.” 

I turned to the other guard standing by the door. I gave him the order. He nodded and slipped out of the room to fetch the supplies from the lower levels. 

Kael started thrashing on the floor. 

It was a weak, pathetic movement, but the absolute psychological terror was clear in his eyes. He realized his identity was about to be stolen right in front of him. He was going to watch another man take his face before he was murdered. 

Fenris was staring at me. 

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I watched his face again. The disbelief was still there, but it had shifted. It wasn’t shock at the violence. It was a dark, profound realization of exactly how far I was willing to go to protect him. 

Yvara let out a low, rough curse. She crossed her arms tightly over her leather armor again. 

“You are even more brutal than I imagined,” Yvara said. 

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