"Ziva is not here," Roman pointed out to Griffin through the Matebond.

And for once, Griffin was grateful for that connection—unlike the other times Roman filled his head with absolute nonsense. Only pack members could mind-link with one another. Theirs, however, was different.

It allowed Griffin to take that information and relay it seamlessly to his people, then return to Roman without missing a beat. Messages moved silently between them effortlessly, passing through the room without ever being heard.

"That is a problem then," Griffin grumbled in his head. "We haven’t even started, and the plan’s already falling apart. Goddess help us all."

According to the plan, aside from Angus, Ziva, the witch, was their priority. They were supposed to keep an eye on her and, at the signal, take her out. With her gone, the witches would be disorganized and easier to deal with.

Except now, how were they supposed to take out a witch who wasn’t even in sight?

"You didn’t actually think this was going to be easy. Angus isn’t stupid," Roman said.

And that was saying a lot, coming from him.

"In that case, we have to find the witch. Micah said Angus rarely goes anywhere without her. They’re practically joined at the hip. So she’s probably somewhere around the compound as we speak—"

"Or invisible," Roman cut in.

"What?"

"They don’t know our plans the same way we don’t know theirs. But one thing is clear—we’re gunning for Angus. And what better way for his daughter to protect him than to remain invisible at his side?" Roman reasoned. "Witch magic."

"Damn," Griffin muttered, impressed.

"Damn, indeed," Roman said, his voice pitching higher with excitement. "I think all that time spent with Asher in the Fae realm must have rubbed off on me."

Griffin snorted. "Something all your years together couldn’t achieve? Hallelujah."

"Fuck off," Roman shot back.

"I better get this message to our resident demon then. Except, where the fuck is Micah?" Griffin had no idea.

The plan was simple. Micah wouldn’t reveal himself until the right moment. Then—poof—he’d appear and drag Angus straight to hell while the fight continued here.

Meanwhile, Roman looked around the hall, searching for Angus, who was currently familiarizing himself with the elders who had betrayed him.

Focused on him, Roman’s green irises shifted, the color deepening before warping into the slit, reflective shape of a hound’s eye. Those creatures were far more attuned to the unseen, capable of sensing disturbances far beyond ordinary perception.

The world around him dulled, sounds thinning into the background as his focus sharpened. And there it was—a heavy, suffocating aura pulsed at Angus’s side. It was thick and unnatural, like something coiled and waiting.

"Just as I thought," Roman said in his head. "Angus is not alone."

And he was impressed—more than he expected to be—with how much his powers had grown these past few days. Roman couldn’t wait for Violet to return. He already had a number of ideas on how he could thank her.

"I’ll pass the message around. We’re switching to plan B. Hopefully, Micah gets it wherever he is."

Meanwhile, while everyone was quietly plotting his death, Angus was making himself at home.

"Elder Felix," Angus called out, the distaste in his voice saying exactly what he thought of him. "Nice to see you’re still on your feet."

Although his hair had completely gone gray, the werewolf didn’t look like someone who had lived over a hundred and fifty years. He still stood straight, though his movements were slower, and faint lines marked his face.

Elder Felix equally stared at Angus, bitter disappointment etched across his face.

"You brought disgrace to this family," his voice was tight. "You should count yourself lucky that sending you away to die quietly was the least I did. Although now, I wish I had ended you right there and then."

Angus smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Except the goddess was gracious enough to give me a second chance, because she knew there was more I could do."

"Your time is over, Angus. This is useless," Elder Noah commented this time, and Elijah cursed under his breath.

What were these fools doing, antagonizing Angus when they needed him calm? He should have known better than to trust this bunch of old, proud idiots.

And just as he feared, Angus said, "So does that mean the ceremony won’t be happening, even though my brother is willing to step down?"

At that question, the elders’ gazes flicked toward Elijah, as if silently asking him—what now?

Were they kidding him?

"Ahh," Angus sighed, tipping his head back slightly before looking at them again. "I was wondering when we were going to drop the act."

In the blink of an eye, Angus moved with terrifying speed and, before anyone could react, snapped Elder Felix’s neck cleanly.

His body dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

For a heartbeat, silence held.

Angus straightened, rolling his shoulders as if he had merely stretched. "I’ve been waiting to do that for so long," he said, almost casually.

That was all the signal each side needed.

Chaos broke out.

Shouts rent through the hall as wolves lunged and power flared.

"Now!" Elijah’s voice boomed with a commanding voice.

Out of thin air, Micah appeared, his form flickering into existence as he lunged for Angus, hand outstretched, ready to drag him straight into the abyss.

But someone came in the way.

"Did you really think I wouldn’t be here?"

Ziva appeared from thin air as if she had always been there. The mark on her face

twisted across her skin, raw and jagged, making her look almost grotesque as she sneered.

Her hand shot out and power slammed forward, hitting where Micah was standing, but he was already gone.

Ziva’s eyes widened a fraction, her body going on alert immediately.

Behind her, a voice murmured, calm and certain.

"I know."

Micah appeared at her back, and reached for her.