Chapter 5

The banquet grows louder by the minute as the night wears on. Drums beat a steady, heavy rhythm in the corner of the room while servants carry large platters of steaks to the tables.

Alpha Garreth sits at the main table, laughing loudly as he tries to impress the decoy warrior in shiny armor. He talks constantly, boasting about his border strength and his pack’s wealth.

He is completely unaware that the real ruler of the Obsidian Pack is standing in the dark shadows across the room, watching him with total coldness.

I move through the crowded hall with a tray of fresh bread, keeping my footsteps quiet and light. Silas stands near the outer archway, his dark eyes locked onto my face as I clear empty plates from the low tables.

He has not touched his wine glass once since our brief eye contact earlier. He is studying me. He is trying to figure out how a poor, malnourished servant recognized a Supreme Alpha wearing plain leather clothes.

It is time to give him a clear reason to make his move.

I walk past a small side table reserved for the Obsidian pack scribes. On the wood lies an open paper showing regional grain costs and iron tax rates.

Garreth raised those tax rates by thirty percent, planning to steal the extra money for his own pocket while lying about the numbers.

As I stretch across the table to grab a used glass, I drop a small folded note from my sleeve onto the center of the contract. On that paper, I wrote down the true market prices for northern iron, along with simple math that proves Garreth is stealing from his allies.

At the bottom, I drew a small, accurate map marking the hidden border trail Garreth uses for his illegal trade shipments.

I step back at once, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor as I slip into the dark hallway beside the main hall.

Behind me, I hear the soft rustle of paper as Silas steps toward the scribe’s table. I do not turn around to check. I keep walking down the empty corridor toward the outer courtyard, where the cool night air cuts through the heavy heat of the estate.

The outer hallway is quiet, lit only by flickering wall torches. Large stone pillars line the path, throwing long, heavy shadows across the stone floor. I stop near a high window, pretending to wipe down a wooden serving tray while my ears catch every small sound behind me.

Heavy steps approach from the dark. These are not the loud, stomping strides of Garreth’s guards. They are smooth, light, and almost silent— the precise movement of an experienced predator.

"You have sharp eyes for a simple servant," a deep voice says from the darkness.

Silas steps into the yellow torchlight. He holds my handwritten note between two long fingers. His dark eyes burn with intense focus as he checks my face, looking for answers to questions he has not even asked yet.

"Most people in that room see only what they expect to see," Silas says, his voice a low rumble. "They see a big man in bright armor and instantly assume he holds all the power. Yet you looked straight past him and found me."

I do not drop to my knees. I do not pretend to be scared or weak. I stand up straight, shoulders back, and look him right in his eyes.

"Real power does not shout for attention, Supreme Alpha," I answer, keeping my voice calm, flat, and steady. "The man at the high table looks for approval before he speaks. His guards stand in front of him to protect him, not around him. You move like someone who gives orders, not someone who takes them."

Silas tilts his head slightly, a small smirk touching the corner of his lips. He holds up the folded paper containing my written numbers.

"And this paper?" he asks, his tone curious. "This is not kitchen work. These numbers show Garreth’s hidden trade accounts down to the last coin. How does a regular servant girl know the true market price of northern iron?"

"A servant sees everything because no one bothers to hide anything from her," I say simply. "Garreth leaves his ledgers open on his desk because he thinks people are too scared to read them. He forgets that fear makes people watch every little detail very closely."

Silas takes a slow step closer, his large frame blocking out the torchlight behind him. Up close, his presence feels heavy, filling all the empty space between us in the cold corridor.

But unlike Garreth’s cruel, unstable energy, Silas’s power feels controlled, disciplined, and quiet. He is not trying to crush me with it. He is testing my courage to see if I break.

"Why give this information to me?" Silas asks, narrowing his dark eyes. "You could have sold these numbers to Garreth’s local enemies for good gold. Instead, you drop them right at my feet."

"Garreth is a weak thief who is poisoning his own pack," I reply, my tone turning cold as ice. "You are a real leader who values logic and efficiency. Garreth wants to trick you out of your gold today, so I am giving you the exact tool you need to ruin him tomorrow."

Silas stays silent for a long moment, searching my face for any sign of a lie. He looks at my thin arms, my old dress, and the fierce fire burning in my eyes.

He came to Blood Moon expecting a simple trade negotiation with a foolish Alpha. Instead, he found a clever mind hiding in plain sight among the rubbish.

"You speak like you run this entire game yourself," Silas says softly, genuine interest shining in his deep voice. "What is your name, girl?"

"Lyra," I answer, holding my head high.

"Lyra," he repeats slowly, testing the sound of my name. "A servant who sees through clever tricks and calculates complex trade routes in her head. You are not a helpless victim in this house, are you?"

"I was a prisoner in this house for a long time," I say, taking a small step toward him without a single drop of fear. "Now, I plan to be the weapon that breaks it."

Before Silas can reply to my words, a heavy wooden door at the end of the long hall swings open. The loud sound of Garreth’s guards calling out for more wine echoes down the stone walkway, ruining the quiet moment.

Silas shifts his body smoothly, stepping back into the deep shadows behind the thick stone pillar before the guards can spot him. But his dark eyes stay fixed on mine through the gloom, shining with a new, dangerous level of respect.

"The party is not over yet, Lyra," Silas whispers softly from the dark. "Let us see how your numbers work when Garreth tries to play his next hand at the table."

I pick up my wooden tray, keep my head steady, and step back out into the bright light of the main hall.

The Supreme Alpha is no longer just a visiting guest in this territory. He is the exact tool I need to break this pack apart from the inside out.

Tab 7