Page 55 of Mane Brew

“Bears don’t tend toward ideology.” Torin shrugs his massive shoulders. “But I’ll check anyway. Betrayal from within cuts deep.”

Aslan prowls closer to the table. “What happens to Izag?”

“Exile.” The word leaves my mouth without hesitation. “He betrayed the pride, but he’s not a murderer. He’s a misguided fool who let fear drive him to terrible choices. But he can’t remain in Sunridge territory. Can’t remain anywhere his access might be exploited again.”

“Exile it is.” Caius nods once. “The Protection Network supports your judgment.”

“For the record,” Aslan adds, “this doesn’t reflect on your leadership. You trusted someone you’d known for years. Most of us would have done the same.”

“Most of us did do the same.” A thread of dry amusement enters Elio’s delivery. “I trusted Izag with sensitive intelligence for years. We all did. The Architect chose her assets well.”

“Speaking of assets.” Veren’s fox eyes glint with knowing intelligence. “How’s your chaos witch handling all this?”

The question catches me off guard. “I haven’t spoken to her since yesterday.”

“Interesting. Because according to the gossip network—which I monitor for purely professional reasons—she’s been asking about you.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “That’s not relevant to this discussion.”

“You should go to her.” Caius’s voice carries the quiet weight of a wolf who’s been exactly where I am. “You’ve been awake too long again. You discovered that your closest friend betrayed you. We have this—all of us.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Go. Rest. Be somewhere that isn’t this room.”

Aslan’s teasing fades into genuine warmth. “We’ve got this, Rhodes. Go be human for a while. Or lion. Whichever.”

I look at the evidence spread across the table. The weight of responsibility I’ve carried alone for so long.

Then I look at my colleagues. My friends. The alphas who came at dawn to support me, who offer their resources and their loyalty without hesitation.

“Thank you.” The words are inadequate. “All of you.”

“Thank us by being happy.” Torin’s smile is gentle. “It’ll make the poetry much better.”

It takes most of the day to do it properly—securing Izag’s files, briefing the Council on the breach, coordinating with Elio on how much of the traitor’s identity to keep contained before panic spreads through the pride. Dawn becomes midday becomes late afternoon, and by the time the last report is filed, I’ve earned the exhaustion bone-deep.

I find myself at the border of Sunridge territory as the sun begins its descent toward the horizon.

The golden grasslands stretch before me, catching the late afternoon light in waves of amber and bronze. Beyond, Mistvale spreads in miniature—cobblestone streets, climbing roses, the distant gleam of the Familiar Registry. The mist swirls in patterns that seem almost purposeful, drawing my gaze toward the witch quarter.

Mistvale keeps its secrets poorly. But it keeps its people well.

I’ve been sitting here for two hours. Watching. Thinking. Processing the wreckage of a friendship I thought would last forever.

Izag’s face keeps appearing in my memory. Not the desperate believer from last night, but the cub who wrestled with me in the tall grass. The young lion who stood at my side when my father passed the mantle of leadership. The second-in-command who covered my weaknesses and celebrated my strengths for over a decade.

All of it built on a foundation I didn’t know was cracked.

Grief settles in the way of predators—silent, internal, expressed through the heaviness of limbs and the weight of breath. He doesn’t understand betrayal. Pack is pack. Pride is pride. You don’t turn against your own.

But humans—and the human parts of shifters—are more complicated than that.

“I heard about Izag.”

Her voice reaches me before her footsteps do. I don’t startle. Part of me has been waiting for her since I left The Den, even if I didn’t consciously acknowledge it.

Zeph appears at the edge of my vision—sunset catching the wild curls framing her face.

“Word travels fast.” The words come out rougher than intended.

“Elio told me.” She stops a few feet away. Close enough to matter. Far enough to give me space. “He thought you might need...”