My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her

Chapter 469: Chapter 469 HOMICIDAL LUNAR PSYCOPATH

SERAPHINA’S POV

Nightfang felt different the next morning.

Sharp. Tense in the way a room became in the nanoseconds between a glass tipping off a shelf and the moment it shattered against the floor.

By the time I walked into the operations room, every monitor along the far wall was already flooded with headlines, interview clips, territory statements, and rapidly spreading commentary from both the human and werewolf networks.

Lacy, a Nightfang tech, looked up from one of the laptops, exhaustion carved beneath her eyes.

“You’re right on time, Luna,” she said grimly. “It’s better you watch it live.”

Kieran stood near the center table with Ethan and Corin, all three staring at one of the screens with expressions that immediately tightened something in my chest.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

All three turned to me with identical tight expressions that made my breath catch.

I turned to the screen, and it all made sense.

Marcus Draven appeared on-screen.

The camera framed him from the chest up inside what looked like some expensive corporate conference hall.

He looked like a respectable, polished Alpha, rather than the hidden architect behind trafficking networks, rogue operations, disappearances, and Catherine’s horrors.

“I have no involvement in the internal management of rogue affairs,” Marcus said smoothly. “Nor do I intend to interfere in disputes manufactured by territorial politics.”

Manufactured.

My jaw tightened.

A reporter off-screen asked, “Then what is your response to Alpha Kieran Blackthorne publicly linking your organization to your son, Jack Draven, and his rap sheet?”

Marcus released a measured sigh, like a tired businessman exhausted by whining toddlers.

“Jack Draven is a rogue who has not operated under my authority for a very long time,” he said. “If he has committed crimes, then he should answer for them himself.”

I scoffed, incredulous.

Marcus was abandoning Jack publicly.

Not to protect himself.

To make a point: Jack was expendable.

The realization dragged me back to the dungeon for one ugly heartbeat.

‘My father needs me.’

No. Marcus needed leverage. Tools. Weapons.

The reporter pressed again. “So you deny all involvement?”

“I deny the increasingly hysterical narrative being pushed by Nightfang and its allies,” Marcus replied calmly. “What concerns me more is the dangerous escalation being encouraged by Alpha Blackthorne and his...” He paused, rolled his eyes, and then finished, “...Luna.”

My teeth ground together.

He hadn’t outrightly insulted me or the title, but even a five-year-old could read that body language.

His gaze shifted slightly then, toward the camera.

It felt like he was looking straight at me, and something ugly crawled beneath my skin.

“The appearance of a silver wolf after generations of myth has created understandable fascination,” he continued, “but power without restraint has historically led to catastrophe in both human and werewolf history alike.”

My stomach dropped.

Kieran went terrifyingly still.

Ethan’s curse bounced off the walls of the operations room.

Corin’s expression flattened into something lethal.

A sharp murmur rippled through the reporters immediately.

One voice cut above the others.

“Excuse me—did you just confirm the existence of a silver wolf?”

Another followed quickly.

“Who is the silver wolf?”

“Are you referring to a specific individual?”

“Is this connected to Nightfang?”

Marcus blinked once, like he had only just realized what he’d implied.

Then he chuckled. The sound slithered beneath my skin.

“Oh,” he said lightly, shaking his head with practiced amusement. “I didn’t realize that part wasn’t public knowledge yet.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, entirely at ease beneath the sudden frenzy erupting around him.

“Well,” he said smoothly, “since the information already appears to be circulating among the allied territories...yes, Luna Seraphina is the silver wolf.”

The room of reporters exploded.

Questions crashed over one another instantly.

“Luna Seraphina?”

“Are you claiming Nightfang concealed this intentionally?”

“Is the silver wolf tied to the recent military campaign?”

I barely heard the rest.

A cold heaviness sank through me so intensely that I shivered.

Not because the revelation of the truth terrified me.

The allied forces already knew.

Some of OTS knew.

But this was not how I wanted the world to find out.

Not as part of an attack. Not twisted into fear before I could even speak for myself.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Marcus continued, waving off the flood of questions related to the bomb he just dropped.

“Now we are watching an increasingly emotional military campaign driven not by evidence or lawful process, but by fear, vengeance, and bloodlust.”

Alina stirred sharply beneath my skin.

‘Let him say that to my face,’ she hissed. ‘I’ll show him bloodlust.’

“I worry,” Marcus said carefully, “that Alpha Blackthorne is allowing personal attachment to cloud his judgment. Particularly when his Luna appears eager to resolve every conflict through force.”

Ethan barked out a disbelieving laugh.

“Force?” he snapped. “After everything they’ve done?”

But Marcus was not speaking to people who already knew the truth.

“Many historians,” Marcus continued, “have written extensively about the instability surrounding powerful wolves tied too closely to lunar influence. Aggression. Emotional volatility. Obsessive territorial instincts.”

My stomach turned colder.

A reporter asked carefully, “Are you suggesting Luna Seraphina is dangerous?”

Marcus paused just long enough to make the silence answer the question.

“I am suggesting,” he said mildly, “that perhaps this sudden push toward war has less to do with justice, and more to do with satisfying the destructive instincts of a supernatural predator that has not existed in centuries.”

The room exploded.

Ethan slammed one hand against the table hard enough to rattle the laptops.

“That fucking—”

Kieran’s aura surged so violently that the overhead lights flickered.

Ashar pressed hard beneath the surface of him, enough that I could feel the heat burn into my side.

Despite how angry I was, I was thinking clearly.

Beneath Marcus’ carefully chosen words, I heard the real objective: fear.

Not of me specifically, of what I represented.

Silver wolf.

An unknown power.

Easy to mythologize and weaponize.

Especially after public fear surrounding Jack’s attacks had already destabilized everything.

Marcus was trying to redirect that fear before we could solidify our control of the narrative.

If Marcus could make me look unstable, bloodthirsty, corrupted by power, then every future action we took would be questioned and challenged.

The interview continued.

Marcus folded his hands neatly. “If Alpha Blackthorne truly desires peace, perhaps he should reconsider allowing emotionally compromised individuals to dictate military action. It really is a sad day when an Alpha lets himself be seduced into complacency.”

Kieran moved before I realized he had.

The television shattered against the wall beneath the force of his fist. The broken screen sparked faintly before dying completely.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

“Public reactions are splitting already,” Lacy said carefully, sliding another tablet toward us. “Most allied territories are still backing Nightfang, but the interview is spreading fast through neutral regions.”

I scanned the incoming responses.

Some defended us immediately.

Others questioned why Marcus sounded calmer than the people accusing him.

A few headlines had already started mutating into something worse.

SILVER LUNA PUSHES FOR WAR.

WHAT ELSE IS NIGHTFANG HIDING?

THE RETURN OF ANCIENT WOLF INSTABILITY?

I couldn’t help it; I laughed. Even to my own ears, it was shrill and borderline manic.

Corin stepped beside me quietly.

“You’re dissociating,” he murmured.

I snorted. Maybe I was.

Suddenly, I remembered standing before reporters days earlier, promising rogue civilians that we would protect them, too.

Who would want my protection now?

“He’s scared,” I said softly.

Ethan stared at me like he thought I’d lost my mind.

“Scared?” he repeated. “Sera, he just publicly called you a homicidal lunar psychopath.”

I held back a chortle.

“He’s adjusting the battlefield,” I said, more to myself now. “Jack’s capture hurt them. He knows public support shifted toward us too quickly. So now he’s trying to make people fear what comes next more than they fear him.”

Kieran’s eyes never left me.

“He also wants you angry,” he said quietly.

I managed a soft smile and slid my hand in his. My thumb brushed over the cuts on his knuckles. “Well, he managed to make you angry.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Sera—”

“This is war,” I said, my voice soft. “We were always going to take a couple of hits.”

Kieran pulled me to him till we were chest to chest. His voice lowered enough that only I could hear it.

“Tell me what you need.”

What did I need?

Marcus understood something most people didn’t.

Wars were not won only through strength; they were won through perception.

He wanted spectacle. He wanted to give the people a bigger monster to fear.

Too bad for him.

I had spent most of my life surviving people who wanted me either silent or broken.

I knew how to endure being hated. If he thought he could destabilize me, he had another thing coming.

“Set up a meeting with the Alphas,” I said. “We have to figure out our next move.”