[Korin’s POV]
The fifth night of guarding Lyanna's prison felt heavier than all the battles I had fought for Grimhowl.
I stood at my post outside the reinforced door, listening to the silence within, knowing that behind those walls sat a woman slowly breaking under the weight of her captivity.
Alpha had confined her to these chambers the moment she revealed the triplets' existence to him—or rather, the moment the healer betrayed her secret.
No walks in the garden, no visits to the pack hall, not even a window that opened to let in fresh air.
Only the twice-daily delivery of meals, pushed through a slot in the door like she was some dangerous criminal rather than his mate carrying his heirs.
"The perfect guard for my precious cargo," Rheakar had said when assigning me to this duty, his smile sharp with cruel amusement. "Who better than my most loyal Beta to ensure my Luna remains... protected?"
He knew. Of course he knew.
In fifteen years of service, I had hidden many things from my Alpha, but apparently not the way my eyes lingered on his mate when I thought no one noticed.
Not the way my voice softened when addressing her during formal pack gatherings.
"So, Rheakar ordered Luna to be kept locked up for the entire nine months?” I heard a whispered conversation between two guards in the corridor. “Our Alpha's cruelty knows no bounds."
"Why not?" the second one chuckled. "Alpha will have more time to spend with his concubines. He's already got them all to himself."
"Shut it down, you two." I barked. The guards immediately fell silent, their eyes lowered.
Rheakar's punishment was elegant in its cruelty—forcing me to stand guard while the woman I had admired from afar suffered in isolation, carrying children destined for fratricide.
The dinner tray arrived, carried by a young omega who refused to meet my eyes. I checked its contents as required, then knocked twice before sliding it through the opening.
The protocol was clear: no conversation, no lingering, no acknowledgment beyond the necessary.
Minutes later, I heard the soft scrape of pottery being pushed back. I bent to retrieve the tray, expecting to find it partially consumed as always—Lyanna's appetite had diminished with her freedom.
But as I lifted the bowl, something caught my eye. A small piece of parchment, folded impossibly thin, hidden beneath the dish where only someone collecting it would notice.
My heart hammered as I palmed the note, maintaining the facade of routine as I set the tray aside for collection.
I should have taken it directly to Rheakar. Should have reported this breach of the containment protocols he had established. That was what a loyal Beta would do.
Instead, I waited until the corridor emptied before unfolding the message with trembling fingers.
“Korin… I know what you risk reading this. But I have no one else. My sons will die if they are born here. The tradition will kill them as surely as poison.
I cannot bear it. Please, if there is any mercy in you, any memory of honor in Grimhowl, help me save them. I ask not for myself but for three innocents who have committed no crime except being born brothers. Please.”
The paper shook in my hands. Each word was carefully chosen, written in the elegant script Lyanna had perfected during her years as Luna, but I could feel the desperation bleeding through every line.
I stood there for a long moment, the note burning against my palm. Down the hall, I could see the warm light spilling from Rheakar's study where he planned his sons' glorious, bloody future.
The path was clear—walk thirty steps, knock on his door, present the evidence of his mate's attempted conspiracy. Prove my loyalty beyond question.
My feet moved without conscious thought, carrying me toward that door. Twenty steps. Ten. Five.
I stopped, my hand raised to knock, and in that moment of hesitation, I heard Rheakar's voice carrying through the thick wood:
"The middle son will train with the mountain clans. Harsh conditions build character. The youngest with the desert wolves—let him learn cruelty early. They must never see each other as brothers, only rivals."
Something inside me snapped. Not broke—snapped back into place, like a bone finally setting after years of walking crooked.
I turned from the door and walked with purpose to the administrative wing, where the master keys hung in their ceremonial display. The night guard barely glanced up as I passed—Beta Korin was above suspicion, after all.
My fingers found the iron key to Lyanna's chambers, its weight heavy with treason.
The walk back felt both endless and far too quick. I dismissed the guard at Lyanna's door, waiting until his footsteps faded before inserting the key.
The lock turned with a sound like fate changing course.
Lyanna stood in the center of the sparse room, her arms wrapped protectively around her swollen belly, tears streaming down her face. She had heard the key turn, had gambled everything on my conscience, but still looked shocked that I had actually come.
"We have perhaps ten minutes before the guard rotation," I said without preamble, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. "Listen carefully, as I will only have time to say this once."
Her eyes widened, hope and terror warring in their depths.
"Three nights from now, during the new moon, there will be a gap in the southern patrols between midnight and dawn."
I pulled a worn map from my pocket that I had carried for days, hoping for an opportunity that had finally come.
"I will ensure the guards at River Post are the ones who drink most heavily after evening training."
My fingers traced the route quickly, marking each crucial point.
"Take the old hunting path through the pine grove—it has been unused for months. Cross the river at the narrow point where the water runs fastest; it will break your scent trail."
"Korin," she whispered, but I raised my hand to stop her.
"I will leave supplies at the southern border—food, clothes, gold. Enough to start a new life far from here." I pressed the map into her hands. "Memorize this tonight, then burn it. Leave no evidence."
"How will I get past the guards between now and then?" she asked, her practical mind already working through the obstacles.
"You won't. You'll remain here, playing the obedient prisoner. On the third night, I will have the guard rotation. I will unlock your door at midnight and create a distraction. You'll have fifteen minutes to reach the southern border."
"And you? When Rheakar discovers…"
"I will weather his rage," I said firmly. "Some loyalties run deeper than any oath sworn to an Alpha. Your sons deserve to live, free from a tradition that demands their blood."
Lyanna stepped closer, and for a moment I thought she might embrace me, but propriety held even here, even now. "You are saving more than just my sons, Korin. You are saving my soul from watching them destroy each other."
"Then it is worth any price," I replied, moving toward the door. "Three nights, Luna. Be ready."
As I locked the door behind me, resuming my guard post as if nothing had changed, I made peace with my choice. In three nights, I would commit the highest treason a Beta could imagine.
But some things transcended pack law—conscience over blind loyalty, love over duty, hope over tradition. Three more nights of deception, and then Lyanna's sons would have their chance at life.