Mated To My Mate's Worst Enemy Chapter 119

ARIA

The man struggled in Kael's grip, but it was futile. No one escaped once Kael decided they weren't going anywhere.

"He's a spy," Ivory said, getting to her feet and rubbing her throat where bruises were already forming. "From Sera. Planted here in Shadowmere. He's the one who shot me with that poisoned dart. Who framed Luna Aria. Who's been reporting back to Sera about everything happening in our pack."

"You can't prove that," the man gasped out.

"Can't I?" Ivory asked, and now that triumphant smile was back. "I knew the real attacker wasn't going to come out of hiding unless he thought his mission was accomplished. Unless he thought Luna Aria was actually going to be executed for his crime. So I set a trap."

She gestured to Margo, who stepped forward holding several folded papers.

"An hour ago, when I announced Luna Aria would be executed tonight, this man wrote letters," Ivory continued. "Letters to be sent to Sera, telling her the job was done. That he'd successfully framed the Luna and she was about to be eliminated. Margo retrieved them."

Margo unfolded the letters, showing them to the elders and then to the crowd. I couldn't see the contents from my position on the platform, but the gasps from those close enough to read them told their own story.

"They're all addressed to Sera," Margo confirmed. "All written in the past hour. All explicitly discussing how the mission was accomplished and Luna Aria had been successfully framed for attempting to hurt Ivory."

"I knew he would come to watch the execution," Ivory said, looking up at me on the platform. "Knew he couldn't resist seeing his handiwork come to fruition. Knew he'd want to gloat, to witness Luna Aria dying for something he'd done. And I was right."

The man in Kael's grip had gone still, clearly recognizing that denial was pointless.

"Read the letters," Elder Morrison commanded. "Out loud, for all to hear."

Margo cleared her throat and began reading. The contents were damning—detailed descriptions of the attack, gloating about how perfectly Luna Aria had been positioned to take the blame, promises that Sera would be pleased with how well he'd executed her orders.

By the time Margo finished the third letter, there was no doubt left. This man—this spy who'd been living among us—had attempted to murder Ivory and deliberately framed me for it.

I should have felt relief. Should have been overcome with joy at being vindicated. But I was still standing on the platform with a noose around my neck, my legs shaking, my breath coming in short gasps.

"Luna Aria is innocent," Ivory announced, turning to address the assembled pack. "Completely, unequivocally innocent. She tried to save my life that morning in the forest, not take it. And I nearly let you execute her for it."

The executioner finally moved to remove the noose from my neck, his hands fumbling with the knot. Someone else was untying my bound hands. But I couldn't move, couldn't process what had just happened.

Ivory climbed up onto the platform, approaching me with that same triumphant smile. Except now I understood what it had been about. Not gloating over my guilt, but certainty about her plan.

"This is why my words, when spoken, are taken for truth," Ivory said quietly, loud enough for only me to hear. "This is why I don't abuse Kael's trust in me. Why I don't use it for personal gain or to get rid of romantic rivals."

She gestured toward where Kael still held the spy, toward the letters in Margo's hands, toward the crowd that had been so certain of my guilt just minutes ago.

"Kael trusting me without doubt was what made this possible," she continued. "If he had said no to this plan, if he had decided to doubt me or insist on seeing evidence first, the real culprit would have stayed hidden. You would still be imprisoned or worse. The spy would have remained among us, reporting to Sera, probably attempting another attack."

The truth of her words settled over me like a weight. This had all been a trap. An elaborate, terrifying, absolutely brilliant trap. And it had only worked because Kael had trusted Ivory enough to approve an execution based solely on her word.

"I had to make it real," Ivory said, and now her voice was gentle, almost apologetic. "Had to make everyone—including you—believe you were actually going to die. Because the spy was watching, waiting to see if his frame job would succeed. He wouldn't have revealed himself, wouldn't have written those letters, wouldn't have come to gloat at your execution if he'd suspected for even a moment that this was a trap."

She paused, letting me absorb that.

"I'm sorry I put you through this," she added. "But it was the only way. The only way to draw him out, to get the proof we needed, to definitively clear your name while also catching the real attacker."

I looked out at the crowd, at their shocked faces, at their sudden uncertainty about everything they'd believed just minutes ago. Looked at Kael, who was still holding the spy but whose eyes had finally found mine, full of relief and residual terror and something that might have been shame.

"You staked your life on this," I whispered to Ivory. "You said if you were wrong, they could kill you."

"I wasn't wrong," Ivory said simply. "I never am, when it matters. That's why Kael's trust in me is absolute. That's why when I say something, he believes it without hesitation. Because I've proven, over and over again, that I don't abuse that power. That I use it only for truth and justice, not for personal gain."

She helped me down from the platform, steadying me when my legs threatened to give out.

"Welcome back to life, Luna Aria," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I hope you've learned something valuable about how trust works in this pack."

The crowd parted as we walked through it, Ivory supporting my weight while I tried to remember how to breathe normally. Behind us, I heard Kael beginning to interrogate the spy, his voice carrying the promise of violence if answers weren't forthcoming.

But I couldn't focus on that. Couldn't focus on anything except the fact that I'd been seconds away from execution. That Ivory had deliberately put me through that terror as part of an elaborate trap. That Kael had approved it, had trusted Ivory's word enough to nearly let me die.

And that it had worked. That the real attacker had been caught, the truth revealed, my name cleared.

All because Ivory didn't abuse the trust Kael placed in her. Because she'd proven, once again, that his faith in her integrity was justified.

I was alive. I was vindicated. I was free.

But as we walked away from the execution grounds, leaving behind the crowd and the noose and the platform I'd been standing on moments before, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just witnessed something profound and terrifying.

The demonstration of just how powerful absolute trust could be. And just how completely I lacked it.