The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 144

Plans-2

Her truth.

“Gamma blood…” he murmured under his breath.

His eyes moved further down.

“Runt of the pack upon first shift…”

A faint scoff escaped him.

“Rejected by the Alpha’s son…”

His grip tightened slightly around the phone.

“Ran away…”

And now-

This.

Caleb’s gaze darkened as he lowered the phone slightly, staring out at the water again, his thoughts aligning, sharpening.

“Stupid…” he muttered quietly.

“Fools.”

Because they had seen weakness where there was none.

They had labeled her as small.

Insignificant.

A runt.

And yet-

No runt could do what she did.

No weak wolf could reject an Alpha’s son and still stand.

す

No fragile girl could survive alone, out there, without protection.

And certainly-

No ordinary wolf could be the Messenger.

A slow realization settled deeper within him.

“She’s stronger than all of them,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Stronger than they ever understood.

Clam

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Claim

< Plans-2

Stronger than they deserved.

Their loss was his gain.

And yet-

She had been pushed.

Driven away… again.

His chest tightened again.

“…Where are you?” he whispered, his voice carrying that same quiet intensity, that same ache he couldn’t fully suppress.

A pause.

A breath.

“…Mate.”

The word lingered in the air, heavy with meaning, with possession, with something deeper than instinct

now.

Because this-

This was no longer just about the bond.

It was about her.

And he would find her.

No matter how long it took.

No matter what stood in his way.

Because this time-

He wasn’t letting her go again… she was HIS.

The palace stood silent under the weight of the night, its towering walls casting long shadows under the dim glow of scattered lights, as Caleb’s car finally rolled through the gates, the guards snapping to attention the moment they recognized him.

He didn’t acknowledge them.

Didn’t slow.

Didn’t hesitate.

The moment the engine died, he stepped out, his movements sharp, purposeful, his mind already ten steps ahead, already working, already calculating.

There was no room for exhaustion.

< Plans 2

No space for weakness.

Not now.

Not when everything around him was rotting from the inside.

Claim

He entered the palace with long strides, his expression unreadable, the storm beneath his calm surface hidden behind years of discipline, of control drilled into him since childhood.

Servants lowered their heads as he passed.

Guards stepped aside instantly.

But Caleb saw none of it.

Felt none of it.

Because his focus had narrowed to one thing only-

The truth.

And how to drag it into the light.

Instead of turning toward his chambers, instead of allowing himself even a moment of rest, he changed direction without breaking stride, his path leading him deeper into the palace, toward a place far more important tonight.

His office.

The door shut behind him with a firm click.

Silence followed.

Heavy.

Focused.

He moved immediately, shedding his jacket and tossing it aside carelessly, his hands already reaching for documents, files, maps, his mind shifting fully into strategy mode.

There was no time to sleep.

No time to think about the ache in his chest.

No time to allow thoughts of Iva to weaken his resolve.

This-

This required precision.

Cold thinking.

Ruthlessness.

Caleb leaned over his desk, both hands planted firmly against its surface as he stared down at the scattered information, his mind racing through possibilities, connections, motives.

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< Plans 2

Think,” he inuttered under his breath

Because this wasn’t just about Sonia.

She was a piece.

A front.

A distraction.

Someone had placed her there.

Someone powerful enough to influence the Council.

To sway the King.

To poison the very core of the royal household.

And that meant-

This went deeper.

Much deeper.

Hours passed.

Unnoticed.

The night stretched on as Caleb worked relentlessly, pacing, sitting, standing again, sketching plans, discarding them, rebuilding them stronger, sharper, more precise.

Scenario after scenario played out in his mind.

What if the goal wasn’t just control-

But collapse?

His jaw tightened as frustration flickered through him, but he forced it down, channelling it into focus instead.

Claim

“No… not random…” he murmured, piecing things together slowly. “Too clean… too fast! too coordinated…

His eyes narrowed.

“The validation…”

Too rushed.

Too convenient.

Too perfect.

His fingers tapped against the desk rhythmically as the pieces began to align, one by one, forming something clearer, something darker.

46

Plans 2

“They needed legitimacy fast,” he said quietly. “Before anyone could question it…”

Before he could question it.