Betrayed By One. Bound To Three-Chapter 78: Silas Ambition.

Silas.

The warriors returned just before dawn, when the pack grounds were still quiet and the sky had only just begun to lighten. A faint grey stretched across the horizon, soft and deceptive, as if the world had not yet decided whether to wake or remain still.

But the silence did not last.

Word spread quickly, faster than footsteps, faster than breath. By the time the warriors reached the main hall, the guards had already moved aside, their expressions tense, and a servant rushed ahead to announce their arrival.

Silas had been waiting.

He stood at the center of the room, unmoving at first glance, but there was nothing calm about him. His posture was too stiff, his shoulders too tight, as though he had been holding himself together by force alone.

The air around him carried a restless energy, the kind that came from pacing too long, thinking too much, expecting something that had not yet come.

His eyes found them immediately.

He scanned their faces, quick and sharp, searching.

Then he frowned.

"Where is she?"

His voice was low, controlled, but there was something underneath it that made the room feel smaller. It was not just anger. It was urgency, barely contained.

The warriors slowed.

They exchanged brief glances, the kind that said too much without words. Their leader stepped forward, careful in the way he carried himself, as though he already knew this would not go well.

"My Alpha," he began, his tone respectful but cautious, "we found the princess."

Silas’s gaze sharpened instantly. "And?"

There was a pause, small but noticeable.

"She... refused to return with us."

The words settled heavily in the space between them.

For a moment, Silas did not react. He simply stared at the man, his expression blank in a way that felt more dangerous than anger.

As if he were waiting for the sentence to correct itself.

But it didn’t.

"What do you mean she refused?" he asked slowly, each word measured, each one carrying more weight than the last.

The leader straightened, though there was tension in his jaw now. "She said she would return to the pack on her own terms."

Silence followed.

It stretched too long.

Then something in Silas snapped.

"You listened to her?" His voice rose sharply, cutting through the room. "You stood there and let her decide that?"

The warriors stiffened immediately.

"My Alpha, she did not appear—"

"I told you she is ill!" Silas interrupted, his voice echoing off the walls now, louder, harsher. "I told you she was dying, and you let her remain out there like that with those rogues?"

No one spoke.

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

The leader held his ground, though it was clear it was not easy. "My Alpha," he said again, more firmly this time, "with respect... the princess did not look ill."

Silas went completely still.

The shift was immediate.

The anger did not disappear, but it changed shape, pulling inward, sharpening into something colder.

"She was standing," the leader continued, choosing his words carefully. "She spoke clearly. There was no weakness in her. No sign of sickness."

Another warrior stepped forward before he could stop himself. "She looked... strong."

That word landed harder than anything else.

Strong.

Silas’s expression shifted again, but this time it was slower, more controlled, as though something inside him was rearranging itself.

That was not possible. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

He had seen it himself. He had watched her weaken, watched the slow fading of her strength. The poison was slowly claiming her.

It had been working.

It should still be working.

"And she said nothing else?" Silas asked, his voice quieter now, but far more dangerous.

The leader hesitated. "She asked that we inform you she would return... to continue with the wedding."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

Silas did not respond immediately.

But something dark settled over him, something deeper than anger, something that twisted tightly beneath the surface.

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

He did not dismiss them.

He did not give orders.

He simply left.

The warriors remained where they were, uncertain, exchanging glances but not daring to move. The tension lingered long after he was gone, clinging to the walls like something alive.

Silas did not look back.

He moved through the halls quickly, his steps controlled but sharp, each one striking against the floor with quiet force. His thoughts moved faster than his body, circling, unraveling, refusing to settle.

This was wrong.

Everything about this was wrong.

She was supposed to be weaker by now. Slower. Fading.

Not standing in the forest, speaking clearly, choosing her own return as if nothing had touched her.

His jaw tightened.

Someone had interfered.

The thought came suddenly, but once it formed, it refused to leave.

Someone had helped her.

The healer. Or, was it the witch?

He settled for the healer because he knew the triplets going to the witch was near impossible.

The healer must have found the antidote and had given it to Selena.

The idea twisted in his chest, sharp and unsettling. It was not just anger that followed—it was something closer to panic, though he would never name it that.

He reached his chambers and pushed the door open harder than necessary, stepping inside before shutting it behind him with a heavy sound.

Silence filled the room instantly.

For a moment, he stood still, his breathing steady but too controlled, as though he were holding something back.

Then he began to pace.

If Selena returned like this, if she walked into the pack strong and whole, everything he had set in motion would begin to crumble.

She would speak.

And if she spoke, people would listen.

That was the problem.

She was not just anyone. She was their princess. They trusted her even though she hasn’t realized it yet. They had always trusted her more than they should.

His hands curled slightly at his sides.

If she spoke, there would be questions.

If there were questions, there would be doubt.

And doubt... would destroy everything.

He ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts racing, shifting, searching for something solid to hold onto.

No.

He could not let it reach that point.

He needed to move first.

He needed to make sure that by the time she returned, her words would mean nothing.

His pacing slowed gradually as the thought began to take shape.

Doubt.

That was what he needed.

Not force. Not denial.

Doubt strong enough to turn the pack against her before she even opened her mouth.

His gaze lifted slightly, his mind locking onto the idea as it formed more clearly.

Loretta.

He stilled completely.

The name settled into his thoughts with quiet precision, and almost immediately, everything began to align.

He had previously told the elders that she was sick as a result of poisoning from the rogues. They had believed him.

If something were to happen to her now...

If her condition suddenly worsened...

Or if it could be made to look like Selena and her eogues was involved—

Silas exhaled slowly, the tension in him shifting into something colder, more controlled.

The elders would not question him.

They would react.

They would protect what they believed was theirs.

And Selena...

His lips curved faintly, though there was no warmth in it.

Selena and her rogues would not be seen as a victim.

She would be seen as a threat.

By the time she returned, her strength would not matter.

Her words would not matter.

No one would be listening.

Silas turned toward the window, his gaze settling on the distant line of trees far beyond the pack, his expression unreadable once more.

"You should have stayed weak," he murmured quietly.

There was something strained beneath the words now, something tighter than before, as though this outcome had shaken him more than he wanted to admit.

Because this had not been part of the plan. Selena was suppose to be weak and sying while Loretta was meant to stand by him as his Luna. But that future seems almost impossible now.

Nothing was going to come between him and his ambition.