She had done this. She had murdered her uncle. Who else could move with the stealth to slip right under the noses of trained Followers? Who else would stick the head on a pike outside the Citadel as if to taunt not only Shepherd but the city she sought to destroy? Who else would gain by this?

It was a delicate thing, tormenting a population just enough to keep them miserable, Shepherd having exercised caution not to press millions past the point of desperation. Hanging a traitor as part of a public trial and execution spread the blame on all who watched. It made the population impotent and held Thólos responsible. This… the Champion of the People and leader of the resistance’s head had been mutilated for show, loudly broadcasting the wrong sentiment.

That was what had earned Shepherd’s anger, not Jules’ accusations that Svana had done this to undermine them all.

Riots had already begun to bloom, Followers acting in mercenary fashion.

Even faced with this kind of proof of Svana’s treachery, Shepherd did not see an imprudent mistake—yes, Svana could be difficult, but she would not break rank, not when she stood to gain the most from their great plan’s success. If she had done this, it had been for good reason.

Jules had lost his temper. He’d smashed his fist against the table and roared.

Shepherd had only put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, both as comfort and as warning. “Do not allow this complication to cloud your thinking. Patrols must be immediately increased to counter potential uprising, rioters dealt with quietly. We cannot continue shooting citizens in broad daylight, to do so would only encourage more unrest. I need you in the field.”

Jules swallowed, lips tight. “She seeks to control the rebellion.”

Squeezing the smaller man’s shoulder, Shepherd growled, “Brother, if what you believe is true, it would only benefit our cause to have Svana at the helm of our enemy’s forces.”

There was some stinging truth in his leader’s words. Had the woman in question been anyone but Svana, Jules may have even agreed. The Beta would not allow her to stir up animosity, having seen years of her manipulations and spite. He would not give her the pleasure. The best course was to follow orders. “Understood.”

Shepherd had left him to oversee the sedation of potential riots, to be seen in the Citadel.

Alone, for an hour, Jules crouched, eye level with the severed head of Senator Kantor.

Up close, Kantor’s eyes displayed the hazy film of developing cataracts. Between lids half drooping, retinas mismatched in the direction they pointed, and the gaping mouth, the Alpha finally looked as monstrous on the outside as Jules knew he’d been on the inside.

The Champion of the People… had been the vilest of men.