Page 53 of Mane Brew

I don’t miss anything. Not anymore.

“You think there’s still a leak?” He keeps his tone professional. “The Preserver witch mentioned a traitor during interrogation, but⁠—”

“She mentioned a traitor with access to Network schedules. Shipping routes. My office.” I stand. The height difference between us has never felt significant before. Tonight, I use every inch. “Someone recruited years ago. Before any of this started.”

Izag’s expression doesn’t change. But his scent does—a subtle shift toward the sharp bite of fear masked as concern.

“Rhodes, if you’re implying⁠—”

“I’m not implying.” I push a file toward him. The shipping route modification. His handwriting on the authorization. “I’m stating. You’ve been feeding information to the Preservers for years. You’ve been sabotaging Network operations. You’ve been betraying your pride.”

Silence.

The moonlight catches the angles of his face—handsome in that conventional way, well-groomed, the kind of lion who fits perfectly into proper pride structure. I’ve trusted that face since childhood. I’ve defended that face to the other alphas when they questioned his rigid views. I’ve excused his increasing discomfort with the matings as reasonable caution from a traditional lion.

I was wrong.

“I did this for you.” The words come out quiet. Resigned. No denial. No protest. Just the terrible truth of a friend who doesn’t understand what friendship means. “For the pride. You’re losing yourself over that chaos witch.”

“My judgment isn’t compromised⁠—”

“You have a hundred pages on her eating habits, Rhodes.” Frustration cracks through his composure. “You patrol her street at three in the morning. You took her lunch. You spend more time at her brewery than you do at pride meetings.”

“What I do is none of your concern.”

“It’s exactly my concern. I’m your second. I’m supposed to protect you—from external threats and from yourself.” His hands spread in appeal. “The Preservers understand what we’re losing. The structure. The order. The way things are supposed to be.”

“Things change. Structures evolve.”

“They shouldn’t.” The words crack with conviction. “The Severing existed for a reason. The separation between witches and shifters kept us safe for two hundred fifty years. And now—three matings? Four if you count what’s obviously happening between you and that⁠—”

“Careful.” I drop to a register that makes even longtime pride members go still. “Very careful how you finish that sentence.”

Izag’s jaw works. I see him calculating—thirty years of friendship weighed against ideology that’s been festering far longer than I knew.

“How did they contact you?” I need to understand. Need to know how deep this goes, how long I’ve been blind. “The Preservers. The Architect. How did they find you?”

“A consultant.” He laughs bitterly. “Years ago. She came to advise on ward security. Very proper. Very professional. She saw what I saw—that the old ways were being threatened. That someone needed to protect the natural order.”

“Vespera Sallow.”

“She understood. She said there were others who felt the same way. That we weren’t alone.” His eyes meet mine with the fervor of a true believer. “She’s been planning this longer than you know. And she’s right, Rhodes. The matings are chaos. They’re unpredictable. They’re⁠—”

“They’re not your decision to make.” Quiet. Final. The authority of an alpha delivering judgment to a pride member who has violated everything we stand for. “You betrayed your pride. Your alpha. Your friend. For ideology.”

“I was trying to help⁠—”

“You were trying to control what you didn’t understand. That’s not help. That’s fear.” I step closer. Close enough that the full weight of alpha dominance radiates from me. “You were afraid of change. Afraid of losing relevance. Afraid that the world was moving in a direction you couldn’t predict or contain.”

His face twists. “You’re describing yourself, Rhodes. You’re the one who documents everything.”

The accusation hits closer to home than I’d like. Because he’s not wrong. I am terrified of chaos. I have spent my life building walls.

But I’ve also spent the last weeks watching a chaos witch tear those walls down. Watching her magic stabilize in my presence. Watching her see through my rigidity to the care underneath.

And I’ve started to wonder if the walls were protecting me, or just imprisoning me.

“Maybe I was.” I hold his gaze without flinching. “But I’m learning. I’m changing. That’s what people do when they realize they’ve been wrong.”