My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 465

Chapter 465: Chapter 465 JACK DRAVEN THE ENEMY

JACK’S POV

The television shattered against the wall of my quarters in Silverpine hard enough to send sparks bursting across the room.

Glass exploded across the floor. One rogue by the door flinched and lowered his gaze before I could turn my fury on him next.

On the screen—before I destroyed it—Seraphina Blackthorne had stood beneath the lights beside Kieran as if she belonged there.

Calm.

Controlled.

Untouchable.

‘This is your last chance, Jack. Stop hiding behind innocent rogues and own up to your crimes.’

My jaw clenched so violently it hurt.

I grabbed the nearest chair and hurled it across the room. It crashed into a metal shelving unit hard enough to dent steel.

“I should have killed that bitch when I had the chance,” I snarled.

Nobody answered.

Nobody was stupid enough to.

The rooms my father had shoved me into in Silverpine’s lower compound reeked of oil, rust, damp concrete, and fear.

The underground section of the pack territory had once been used for military storage decades ago, before Marcus converted portions of it into hidden operational space.

Now it was where I was hiding from the world.

How fucking fitting. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Men moved carefully around me, pretending to focus on weapons inventories and transport manifests while avoiding direct eye contact.

Cowards.

Every last one of them had started acting like prey ever since Kieran’s announcement.

I could smell it on them—anxiety, doubt, the sickening instinct to survive by abandoning ship the moment pressure started mounting.

The worst part was that Seraphina had done it brilliantly.

That damned runt had taken the narrative right out of my hands.

Before her press conference, people had been afraid enough to lash out blindly.

Rogues were angry. Packs were angry. Humans were angry. The whole damn world had been one push away from chaos.

Chaos was useful.

Chaos buried tracks and muddled evidence.

But then she stepped in front of the cameras and drew a line so cleanly that now every rogue with half a brain was starting to distance themselves from me instead of rallying behind me.

Jack Draven the trafficker.

Jack Draven the terrorist.

Jack Draven the enemy.

I slammed my fist into the wall. Concrete cracked beneath the impact.

“That manipulative bitch,” I hissed.

A low voice came carefully from behind me. “The northern routes are collapsing.”

I turned slowly.

The rogue messenger almost swallowed his tongue.

“Explain.”

“The border contacts are pulling out,” he said quickly. “Some of them are burning records before allied forces can raid them. A few safehouses already emptied overnight.”

Because they were scared.

Because Kieran Blackthorne had finally stepped into the light publicly instead of fighting through whispers and hidden retaliation.

Because Seraphina had made it politically safe for people to betray me.

And they had the nerve to give me a fucking ultimatum.

Three days...

Rage burned hotter in my chest.

I should have fucking killed her when I had the chance.

It would have been so easy, too.

She’d been so weak, so vulnerable, so breakable before she transformed into this impossible thing standing beside Nightfang like a queen born for war.

I should have snapped her neck before Kieran ever had the chance to turn her into a symbol.

The thought barely settled before the doors at the far end of the underground room opened.

The rogues around me stiffened instantly.

Marcus entered first.

My father carried silence with him the same way Kieran carried authority. Heavy. Absolute. Suffocating.

Two Silverpine wolves followed behind him, both members of his personal guard, but they remained near the entrance instead of approaching directly.

Marcus did not look angry—which was bad.

My father’s anger was predictable and manageable.

But when his expression turned cold and bland, I never knew what was coming next.

“Your temper tantrums were always expensive,” he said mildly, glancing toward the destroyed television.

I laughed sharply. “You’re worried about a fucking television right now?”

“I’m worried about your incompetence.”

The room went still.

My wolf surged beneath my skin. It was dangerous to lose control in front of my father, but I was too furious to care.

“You saw the press conference,” I snapped. “You saw what they’re doing.”

“Yes.”

“They’re choking the routes, freezing accounts, raiding warehouses—”

“And?”

The single word hit like a slap. My hands curled into fists.

“And?” I echoed incredulously. “That’s your response?”

Marcus looked at me for a long moment, and suddenly I felt fourteen again.

Bleeding. Bruised. Standing in front of him after my first failed operation, while he explained calmly why weak wolves died.

Why I would die.

“Your problem,” he said evenly, “is that you keep confusing noise with power.”

I took a step toward him, and one of the guards tensed. I ignored him. My wolf was so riled up that the slightest scent of a threat and the broken television would be the least of my father’s problems.

“Lend me troops,” I demanded. “Enough to move aggressively. I’ll rally the rogues still loyal to us and crush Nightfang before they finish consolidating.”

Marcus stared at me like I had said something profoundly disappointing.

“You think this is the time for open war?”

“It’s already war.”

“No,” he said coldly. “This is positioning.”

My pulse hammered violently.

“Positioning?” I barked. “Kieran’s dismantling everything we built!”

“Not everything.”

His calm made me want to tear the room apart.

“He’s turning the public against us,” I snarled. “Even rogues are starting to panic.”

Marcus remained unmoved.

“Public opinion is temporary.”

“Maybe,” I shot back. “But fear isn’t temporary. That shit grows and mutates, and once it gathers enough momentum, I’ll be finished.”

For the first time, something sharpened faintly in his gaze—annoyance.

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