Chapter 123: Veins of Rebellion
"Not tonight," he murmured under his breath. He drew the thin dagger from his boot, the steel humming against the leather sheath. Then he moved, a shadow among shadows, the mist swallowing his footsteps.
Ahead, the figures paused under a skeletal birch. One of them , tall, skinny, barely more than a boy , tugged at something in his coat. The shorter one, wiry, jittery, peered over his shoulder like a rat scenting a trap.
"You said she wouldn’t come," the short one hissed. "You said she’d be with the council all night."
Beckett stilled behind the trunk of an old oak, close enough to hear the edge in their voices, his breath forming a thin cloud that vanished instantly.
The tall one , Jaron. Beckett recognized him now. Young blood, barely shifted twice, Rhys’ nephew if rumor was true. Always sniffing around the council chamber, too eager for secrets, too clumsy to hide them.
Jaron spat into the grass. "Keep your tongue down, Bran. She’s too busy holding the walls up to care what two dogs like us do."
Bran’s laugh was wet, anxious. "Gabriel pays good silver for names. You told me. Just a few details , routes, supply caches. Who cares if some scouts go missing?"
Beckett’s stomach coiled. His grip on the dagger tightened. Gabriel’s hooks ran deeper than they’d guessed , deeper than the walls, deeper than the blood.
Traitors in our veins, Rhett used to say. They’re worse than blades at the throat. They’re poison that rots you from the inside.
Bran kicked at the mud. "What about the Beta? They say they took him."
Jaron shrugged. "Good. One less hero sniffing at our heels. Gabriel wants a door cracked open. That’s all. He’ll do the rest."