Chapter 72: A Coup???

"Think it’s time we head back for dinner?"

Emerald’s voice broke the comfortable silence between them. She stretched her arms out above her head, still lying on the soft patch of moss beside the brook.

Lucien tilted his head lazily to the side, eyes half-lidded. "What, you’re finally admitting you’re hungry?"

"I’m admitting I don’t want to get ambushed out here smelling like pine bark and river stones. But yeah, I could use some food in my stomach."

Lucien chuckled, sitting up. "Fair enough."

They stood, brushing stray leaves from their clothes. Lucien reached over and frowned slightly. "Hold still."

Emerald blinked. "What?"

He stepped closer, reaching toward her hair. "There’s a leaf stuck in your hair... right there." He gestured vaguely near her temple.

She brushed her hand through the wrong side. "Did I get it?"

"Nope," he replied, amused. "You’re just rearranging chaos."

He leaned in and gently plucked the small yellow leaf from her hair. "There. Nature’s crown," he murmured.

Emerald laughed softly. "Thanks."

But her voice caught a little when she looked up and found his face much closer than before.

His hand still hovered beside her cheek, and his once playful gaze shifted. It flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, then down again.

The forest was quiet, and the stream still trickled softly nearby. For a second, it felt like the whole world had narrowed to just this: his warm breath, the tension humming between them.

He didn’t move; he just stood there, like he was waiting for permission.

Emerald remembered their first kiss: the one he’d stolen on their date. He was actually the first of her mates to kiss her. But this time... he was giving her the choice.

And for once, Emerald wasn’t fighting it.

She leaned in slowly, her heart racing as they breathed the same air. Then, just like that, it happened...

Snap.

The sound of a twig breaking shattered the moment completely.

Her hand fell from his shoulder, and Lucien straightened immediately.

Emerald glanced at the trees, feeling a surge of alertness. She heard another noise, like a rustling sound, as if leaves moved, but there was no wind to cause it.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We’re not alone."

Just after, five wolves stepped out from the trees. They were huge and muscled, with intense, wild eyes. Their fur was messy, and their teeth were bared as they slowly moved in a wide circle around them.

Lucien exhaled. "So they’re trying to kill us again."

Emerald’s fingers brushed over the dagger at her hip. "Great. Just once, I’d like to have one peaceful night that doesn’t involve attempted murder."

Lucien’s jaw tightened. "Someone’s not taking Pierce’s arrest well."

Emerald sighed. "So we’re doing this again."

The rogues leapt.

Three wolves charged at Lucien in a coordinated manner. He stood his ground, his silver dagger glinting in the light as he crouched low.

He narrowly avoided the first wolf’s bite and plunged the blade into the side of the closest one. The wolf yelped in pain and pulled back.

The second slammed into his side. Lucien grunted, rolling with the force and kicking out to throw the rogue off. His shirt tore as claws scraped across his ribs, blood blooming in thin lines.

The third one lunged for his neck, but Lucien ducked and slammed his fist into its snout, following with a brutal elbow to its jaw. As it staggered, he plunged the dagger into its throat.

Meanwhile, Emerald darted to the side, holding her dagger tight. One rogue lunged, but she sidestepped and slashed across its flank. The second came in low, trying to knock her off balance, but she leapt over it and landed in a crouch behind them.

"You picked the wrong wolves tonight," she muttered.

The injured one lunged again. She spun, parried its bite with the flat of her blade, then drove her dagger up beneath its jaw. Blood sprayed as it dropped.

The second rogue hesitated, but not for long. It rushed her in a blur.

She ducked, rolled under it, then sprang up, slicing across its back as it passed.

Lucien dispatched his final opponent with a clean slash to the spine, and together, they turned to the last remaining rogue. It crouched down, growling softly, but it didn’t make a move to attack.

Lucien circled slowly. "We need this one alive."

Emerald nodded. "You think he’ll talk?"

Lucien didn’t answer. He moved quickly, leapt forward, and tackled the wolf to the ground. With a grunt, he slammed the hilt of his dagger into its head... once, twice, thrice.

Lucien kept going, ignoring the grunts of pain from the rogue, forcing him to shift back to human form.

The man below looked very thin and had a sneer on his face. His lip was split, and his eyes were wild and intense.

Lucien grabbed him by the collar. "Who sent you?"

The rogue spat blood. "Screw you."

Lucien slammed him back against the ground. "How did you get past the borders?"

The man said nothing.

Emerald narrowed her eyes. "You all came from the north. You weren’t coming in... you were already here."

The rogue said nothing, but his twitch gave him away.

She looked at Lucien. "They’re already inside. They’ve been inside."

"He’s just a messenger," Emerald said, still staring at the rogue, who now sat bleeding, smirking, and silent. "That’s all Pierce was, too. They’re just cogs. Someone else is turning the wheel."

Lucien didn’t move, but his fingers flexed slightly around the hilt of his dagger. "Then we need the name of the one behind it."

Emerald crouched down, meeting the rogue’s crazed eyes. "You’re going to tell us who’s pulling the strings, or we’ll make you beg for a swift death."

The man just smiled wider, blood slipping from the corner of his mouth. "You think you scare me because you’re a female Alpha?"

"No," she said. "I think I’m about five seconds from opening your ribs and feeding you your own lung."

He laughed. "Then do it."

Lucien stepped forward. "We’ll take him in."

Emerald began to agree, but a knot formed in her stomach. Viola’s low growl echoed in her thoughts. Suddenly, she sat up straight, her instincts on high alert. "Wait. Something’s wrong."

Lucien looked at her. "What is it?"

Emerald glanced back at the woods, but everything seemed still. Yet, something felt off: the air had changed, and the forest was eerily silent.

"We need to go. Now."

Lucien stiffened. "We can’t leave him."

"We have to," she snapped. "Something’s not right. I can feel it."

He stared at her for a heartbeat, then nodded once. "Alright."

Feeling a strong breeze rustle the leaves, they turned around only to find that the rogue had vanished.

Lucien cursed. "Where did he... He couldn’t have gotten far."

Emerald grabbed his arm as he prepared to go after the rogue. "Lucien. No. We need to go. If I’m wrong, I’ll owe you an apology. But if I’m right..."

Lucien didn’t question her again; he grabbed her wrist, and they ran.

By the time they reached the edge of the Alpha estate, the scent hit them first: blood, smoke, and burnt wood.

Lucien slowed, his face hardening. "No..."

The outer wall was scratched and torn, showing deep claw marks. In the courtyard, guards were struggling to move, some injured, while others helped their fallen comrades to safety. A few lay still on the ground, motionless.

Emerald’s heart dropped into her stomach.

Lucien sprinted forward. "What happened?"

A younger guard stumbled to his feet. "It all started from nowhere. One minute we were going about our guard routine, the next, we were under attack. We pushed them back, but there might still be some who got through. We’re still sweeping the quarters."

Lucien looked toward the flames still smouldering near the western wing. "The town’s untouched."

Emerald’s blood ran cold. "They weren’t after civilians," Emerald said, already moving. "It was never about us. This was a coup."

Lucien caught up quickly. "Emerald! Where are you?"

She didn’t answer; instead, she ran through the manor as fast as she could.

"Emerald! What is it?"

She kept running. "I know what they were after."

She took the stairs three at a time, heart thundering as they rounded the final corner, and she skidded to a stop outside the dungeons.

The door was open, and inside... blood painted the floor.

Pierce was lying in the middle of his cell, his eyes wide open and his mouth hanging slightly open.

A dagger jutted from his chest, blood pooling beneath him, and a rogue was standing over him.

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