A Werewolf's Unexpected Mate-Chapter 59: Unmasking the Enemy

Ace’s POV

Chief Gareth’s face went slack, his weathered skin paling beneath his beard as Philip’s words sank in. Across the table, Ray’s lips quirked upward, mirroring my own realization. The pieces were falling into place - the bandits’ pattern, their targets, their cruel efficiency. All we needed now was confirmation, whether through interrogation or evidence.

"Philip," Chief Gareth said slowly, his voice carefully controlled but the tendons in his neck standing taut. "You’re certain this was the same woman who helped us during the attack?"

Philip scratched his cheek, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Positive, Chief. She’s got black hair with green highlights, mole right here—" He tapped his forehead. "—and, well..." His hands gestured vaguely toward his chest before he caught himself. "Apologies. That last bit was unnecessary."

I couldn’t help but snort. "Was the bust measurement really vital to your investigation?"

Philip’s chuckle broke some of the tension, but Chief Gareth remained rigid, his arms crossed so tightly his biceps strained against his sleeves. "No, Philip’s right," he ground out. "That’s her exactly."

Ray leaned forward, his orange eyes glinting in the candlelight. "This wasn’t random aid. That ’traveler’ was planted. The attack was orchestrated." His fingers drummed a slow rhythm on the table. "I’ve got theories about their endgame, but I’ll keep them to myself until we have proof."

I nodded, my thoughts aligning with Ray’s. When I glanced at Chief Gareth, his face had darkened like a stormcloud. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, the knuckles popping audibly.

"That lying wretch!" he exploded, slamming a fist onto the table hard enough to rattle the dishes. "She played us all for fools!"

Philip moved swiftly, his hand coming to rest on the chief’s heaving shoulder. "Chief," he said, his voice low and steady. "I can’t pretend to understand your position, but I know this rage. If you let it control you now, you won’t be able to lead when your people need you most."

The room held its breath as Chief Gareth’s chest rose and fell in great shuddering waves. Gradually, the tension seeped from his frame. "You’re right," he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. When he looked up, the fire in his eyes had banked to embers. "So what’s our move?"

Ray caught my eye and gave me a small, encouraging nod. The weight of command settled back onto my shoulders.

"Chief Gareth," I began, squaring my shoulders as my voice carried across the table. The candlelight flickered across the deep lines of his face as he met my gaze. "Your position remains unchanged. You’ll stay in the village to coordinate with our reinforcements when they arrive." My fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the wooden tabletop. "Your people need their chief here, protecting them."

Chief Gareth’s chair legs scraped against the floorboards as he surged to his feet. "Those bastards have my people!" His fist came down hard on the table. A vein pulsed at his temple. "I should be leading the charge to free them!"

I crossed my arms, feeling the coarse fabric of my sleeves pull tight across my shoulders. "You’ll come with us to rescue your troops, yes." My voice dropped lower. "But who protects Thunoa Village then?" The words hung heavy in the air between us. "Ray and I have one objective - secure this trade route. If your village burns in the process..." I let the implication linger, watching his face darken.

"Ace!" Ray’s hand clamped down on my forearm, his orange eyes flashing with warning.

Chief Gareth exhaled sharply through his nose, then placed a calming hand on Ray’s shoulder. "It’s alright." His fingers flexed against Ray’s shirt. "He’s right to remind me where my duty lies." The fire in his eyes banked to embers as he sank back into his chair. "I swore to protect everyone within these walls - including Ovelia and Ann."

The tension in my shoulders eased slightly. He understood.

Philip leaned forward suddenly, his elbows thumping onto the table. "So what’s the brilliant plan?" His grin was all teeth, eyes alight with mischief. "I call dibs on my stolen goods! And I’m definitely taking one of their horses." He rubbed his hands together like a child eyeing sweets.

Three sets of disapproving eyes locked onto him.

"What?" Philip’s grin faltered under our stares. He threw his hands up. "I’m also returning everything to the victims! Those poor merchants at the inn—"

"Your altruism is touching," I deadpanned, one eyebrow arched.

Philip’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. "I—what—are you implying?"

I merely smirked and turned to Chief Gareth. "Chief, do you have a regional map? We’ll need it for planning."

The chief pushed back from the table with purpose, his boots thudding against the wooden floor as he crossed to an oak cabinet. The hinges groaned as he rummaged through scrolls and papers. After a moment, he returned with a worn parchment, its edges frayed from use.

"Thank you," I said as I accepted it, our fingers brushing briefly. The paper smelled faintly of ink and cedar.

Unfolding the map across the table’s surface, I smoothed out the creases with my palms. Around me, chairs scraped closer as the others leaned in, their breaths shallow with anticipation.

My finger pressed firmly against the worn parchment, leaving a slight indentation along the western path. "Ray, Philip - we’re heading west, following Khaleed’s trail," I announced, keeping my voice low but carrying enough weight to command attention.

Philip’s arms snapped across his chest like a shield. "Just us three?" His boot tapped an uneven rhythm against the floorboards. "What about Crimsonheart’s troops? Or rounding up help from the inn?" His gaze darted to Chief Gareth. "And why west when their hideout’s northwest? We’d save hours going direct."

Chief Gareth stroked his beard, the silver strands catching the firelight. "I can spare a few hunters if—"

"No." My palm slammed against the table, sending the map fluttering. "Every able-bodied villager stays to defend their homes."

Philip’s defensive posture relaxed. His fingers uncurled from his sleeves. "Right. I forgot that you two are not ordinary princes." A sheepish grin tugged at his lips. "You two took down those werewolves with single strikes earlier in your werewolf forms. Sorry for doubting your plan." He gave a half-shrug. "Besides, the western route only had a few sentries when I scouted it."

I dragged my fingertip along the map’s inked trails. "Northwest is faster, but..." My nail paused just before the jagged mountain symbols. "What if they’ve prepared an ambush? We’d burn through our stamina too quickly."

Philip’s boots scuffed against the floor as he leaned closer. "The western approach lets us pick them off gradually," he realized aloud, his breath stirring the edge of the parchment.

"Exactly." My knuckles rapped against the western path. "Thin their numbers before the main assault."

Philip exhaled sharply through his nose. "West it is then." Though his voice held resolve, his fingers kept flexing at his sides.

Ray’s silent nod beside me carried more weight than words. The tightness in my shoulders eased slightly at his unspoken support.

"Here’s how we proceed." I straightened, rolling my shoulders back. "Stealth approach through the west. Eliminate threats quietly until we reach their base." My palm flattened over the hideout marking. "Priority is capture, but if combat escalates..." I let the implication hang, watching their faces for understanding. "Stay alert. Stay alive."

Chief Gareth’s chair groaned as he stood. "I’ll direct your reinforcements to your position when they arrive." His hand gripped my shoulder. "And I swear on my life - Ovelia and Ann will be safe here."

My throat tightened. "Thank you, Chief."

Philip cracked his knuckles. "So we moving out or—"

A sudden sweetness cut through the smoky air - the rich aroma of blueberry, mango and strawberry. My head snapped toward the kitchen doorway before I could stop myself.

Ray inhaled deeply, his serious demeanor melting away. "Ovelia’s baking." His grin was downright boyish. "Gods, I’ve missed her desserts since we left the palace."

The tension in the room dissipated like morning mist. Even Philip’s perpetual scowl softened at the edges. For just this moment, the impending mission could wait.