My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 452

Chapter 452: Chapter 452 PERFECT MASK

SERAPHINA’S POV

I heard every word.

Every voice in the room carried clearly, every shift in tone, every subtle change in posture and scent—nothing escaped me anymore. Not with what I had become. Not with the way my mind had learned to stretch, to listen, to see.

And yet, I couldn’t focus on any of it.

“...the northern border remains vulnerable if we don’t reinforce the—”

“—we can allocate additional patrol units, but that will stretch—”

“—Marcus’ movements suggest—”

The discussion flowed around me, Alphas speaking in turn, some calm, some sharp, all of them engaged in the strategy that would decide what came next.

I should have been anchored in it.

I should have been leading beside Kieran, weighing every word, reading every intention, shaping the direction of the room the way I had done just yesterday.

Instead, all I could see was a dark, cramped closet, my little sister folding herself into it, her arms wrapped around her knees, her breathing uneven and shallow like she was being strangled from within.

My chest tightened.

I forced my gaze forward, keeping my expression neutral and posture composed as Alpha Idris spoke.

Luna.

That was what they saw.

Not the storm inside.

“She’ll be fine,” Kieran murmured beside me, putting a hand over mine.

I hadn’t realized my fingers had curled so tightly against the wood my nails were in danger of chipping.

I exhaled slowly.

“I know,” I replied just as softly.

And I did.

I’d calmed Celeste. Anchored her. Held her until the trembling had eased and the sharp edge of her fear had dulled.

I’d used just enough of my power to coax her into sleep and put a minor, temporary block to keep her from dreaming.

But now she wasn’t the only one with a terrible memory burned into her mind.

The corridor.

The shadow.

The damn scent.

My gaze drifted again—across the long table.

To him.

Thomas Bane sat three seats from the end, posture straight yet relaxed, his expression composed in that placid, unassuming way that had likely earned him his reputation.

Gentle. Measured. Reasonable.

He was speaking now, his voice calm and steady as he outlined a potential supply route that would minimize exposure to Marcus’ operations.

His logic was sound. His tone was amiable. There was even a faint warmth to it—an ease that made people listen.

That made people trust him.

If I didn’t know, if I hadn’t seen for myself, I would have believed him a saint, and not the monster who had condemned my sister to the hell that had broken her.

My fingers tightened against the table again.

I could feel it—the pull.

That familiar thread of power coiled just beneath the surface of my awareness, responding to the sharp spike of anger that flared every time my gaze landed on Thomas.

It would be so easy to reach. To slip past his defenses the way I had with Celeste.

To see. To know.

Why?

My jaw clenched so hard it ached, the pressure traveling up into my temples.

No.

Not like this.

Because I knew myself and my power well enough now to understand what would happen if I tried.

I wasn’t calm. I wasn’t in control of the part of me that would need to be steady, precise, careful.

I was furious.

And if I stepped into his mind like this, if I saw that moment from his perspective, I wouldn’t just observe.

I would react.

And I would do terrible, irreversible damage.

And no matter what he had done, we needed answers, not a broken mind.

Not yet.

“Luna Seraphina?”

The sound of my name pulled me back sharply.

I blinked, my focus snapping forward as I realized the room had gone quiet, and several expectant pairs of eyes were on me.

Kieran’s hand brushed against mine again.

“What are your thoughts?” Alpha Callister asked, a repetition, most likely.

I held his gaze for a second, reaching into his mind to pull out the last thing he’d said.

Then I spoke.

“The route is viable,” I said, my voice steady. “But it relies too heavily on predictable movement. If their network is as adaptive as we believe, repetition becomes a liability.”

A few heads nodded, Thomas included.

“Agreed,” he said easily. “Which is why I suggested—”

I tuned him out. Not entirely; just enough to keep from unraveling.

The meeting continued.

Plans were refined. Assignments were made. Timelines were discussed.

And through it all, I watched him.

Not openly. Not in a way that would draw attention.

But enough to catalog every shift in his expression, every subtle change in his posture, every interaction he had with the others.

Nothing.

Not a single crack in his perfect mask.

The conversation in the car. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

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