**Betrayal Births by Joseph King**
Claire’s POV
As dawn broke, the sun began to paint the courtyard in a warm golden hue, casting soft light that danced across the cobblestones. It was in that tranquil moment that a gentle knock echoed through my room, pulling me from my thoughts. “Claire?” My mother’s voice floated through the door, laced with a hint of caution.
There was a certain hesitance in her tone, as if she feared her presence might disturb the fragile peace that enveloped me. “I saw… I saw Naomi this morning,” she continued, her eyes darting behind her, as if she needed to ensure I was alone. “Is… is this about Elijah? Should I be worried?”
I let out a slow breath, fingers running through my disheveled hair, trying to gather my thoughts. I didn’t want to add to her worries; she had enough on her plate already. “It’s fine,” I reassured her, my voice steady yet gentle. “Don’t worry. Ethan will be back soon, and everything will be settled. Truly.” I attempted a smile, but I could see the doubt lingering in her eyes—mothers always seem to sense when something is off.
She nodded, though her expression remained troubled, and lingered at the door for a moment longer before slipping away, closing it softly behind her.
I perched on the edge of my bed, allowing the stillness of the room to wash over me. Despite knowing that Naomi had been caught and was now under the palace’s control, unease gnawed at me from within. The knowledge didn’t bring the comfort I had hoped for; instead, it settled heavily in my chest, a constant reminder of the chaos that had unfolded.
When Ethan finally returned, the weight of his presence filled the room, not with anger but with exhaustion. His face bore the marks of sleepless nights, etched with lines of responsibility and the burdens of leadership.
Elijah was quick to approach him, calling for an immediate meeting in the council room. His steps were deliberate, each one echoing with authority. I trailed behind them, my heart racing as I pondered how Naomi would face the repercussions of her actions.
Ethan settled into his chair, his tired gaze sweeping across the room. “Tell me everything,” he instructed quietly, his voice imbued with the commanding presence of the Alpha. “Every detail, and spare nothing.”
Elijah nodded, tension evident in his clenched jaw. “Everything is true,” he stated firmly, his eyes locked onto Ethan’s. “The plots, the forged sketches, the attacks—Naomi orchestrated it all. We were only able to uncover her because Claire noticed the discrepancies.”
The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, thickening the atmosphere. I swallowed hard, feeling a dryness in my throat. Naomi, the girl who had once seemed like a harmless shadow in our midst, had spun this web of chaos. She had come perilously close to dismantling everything we held dear, and though she hadn’t intended to hurt Elijah, the consequences of her actions were undeniable.
Naomi was brought into the council chamber, flanked by guards, her demeanor a stark contrast to the girl I once knew. Her hair was pulled back severely, and her clothing was plain and unremarkable, devoid of any adornment.
She appeared fragile, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear, lips trembling as she began to speak. “I… I didn’t mean—” Her voice faltered, breaking under the weight of her emotions.
“Yes, we know,” Elijah interjected, his tone steady yet devoid of malice. He didn’t need to raise his voice; the control he wielded was palpable in every word. “But your intent doesn’t erase the reality of your actions. The safety of the pack, my own safety, and Claire’s life were all jeopardized. That cannot be overlooked, Naomi.”
With that, she sank to her knees, her head bowed in submission. “Please… please, I beg of you… I never wanted anyone to get hurt. I was just… angry, jealous, I—” Her voice broke again, tears spilling down her cheeks, tracing paths of despair.
Ethan’s voice cut through the tension, calm yet resolute. “Naomi, the gravity of your crime is undeniable. Regardless of your intentions, your actions cannot go unpunished. Emotional impulses—anger and grief—cannot dictate the hand that plots against another. The council has reached a consensus. You will be exiled from the pack.”
The word fell upon her like a heavy weight, freezing her in place, her mouth agape in shock. “Exile…?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracking under the strain. “You… you can’t do this… I… I’ll—”

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