CHAPTER 111: CHAPTER 111

Chapter 111

Kaeleen’s POV

The drive to the Council’s citadel was a four-hour exercise in controlled rage. My hands gripped the steering wheel of the unassuming black sedan, my knuckles white. I had come alone, a deliberate statement. I was not here as a petitioner seeking aid, flanked by my Beta and warriors. I was here as an Alpha, a sovereign leader, coming to deliver a verdict. My pack did not need to hide behind me; they trusted me to be their sword and their shield.

The citadel rose from the earth like a monument to arrogance, a fortress of gleaming white marble and obsidian glass nestled in a secluded mountain valley. It was a place designed to intimidate, to remind all who approached that they were entering the domain of gods, not of wolves. Tonight, the facade of austere power was betrayed by the sounds drifting on the cold mountain air, the faint, decadent strains of a string quartet, the murmur of laughter, the clinking of crystal glasses.

They were having a party.

While my people were being systematically slaughtered, the High Council was indulging in fine wine and polite conversation. The fury that had been simmering in my chest for days ignited, burning away any last vestige of diplomacy I might have possessed.

I bypassed the formal entrance, my clearance as an Alpha granting me access to a private subterranean garage. I walked through silent, opulent halls, my combat boots a jarring intrusion on the polished marble floors. The air grew warmer, thick with the scent of expensive perfume and roasted meats. I followed the sound of the music until I stood before two massive, ornately carved oak doors. Without knocking, I pushed them open.

The scene inside was one of calculated luxury. The Council’s chamber, a grand amphitheater of tiered seating, was arranged for a banquet. The twelve High Elders sat around a massive, circular table of dark, polished wood, their ceremonial silk robes shimmering in the soft light of crystal chandeliers. Servants moved silently between them, refilling glasses of deep red wine. Elder Valerius, the one who had visited my pack, was in the middle of a story, a smug smile on his face.

My entrance brought a sudden, sharp silence. Every head turned towards me. Valerius’s smile faltered. High Elder Theron, a wolf whose silver hair and regal bearing couldn’t hide the weakness in his eyes, set his glass down with a sharp click.

"Alpha Kaeleen," Theron said, his voice smooth but laced with annoyance. "This is a private gathering. Your presence is... unexpected. And unannounced."

"Really?" I asked him coolly.

"Yes. You are not expected here and if you want to discuss something, I’ll suggest you come at a later time and please send a letter or place a meeting first before arriving." He told me.

"Our people are dying," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet room like a shard of ice. I walked forward, my steps echoing, until I stood at the edge of their table. "They are being hunted in the streets, murdered in their homes. So, forgive me for interrupting your unnecessary party."

A ripple of unease went through the elders. Elder Valerius scoffed, recovering his composure. "Kaeleen, always the dramatist. Every pack faces challenges. A regional dispute is hardly a matter to bring before this body without an appointment."

"A regional dispute?" I let out a short, harsh laugh devoid of humor. "Three of my pack are dead. Four from the Black Moon pack. Two from the Stone River clan. All in the last seventy-two hours. All killed by the same method. Does that sound like a regional dispute to you, Valerius?"

I reached into the inner pocket of my jacket and pulled out the Cerberus device my team had recovered. It was sleek, black, and utterly mundane to the human eye. I tossed it onto the center of the table. It skidded across the polished wood, coming to a stop in front of Theron. It looked alien amongst the fine china and silver cutlery.

"This is what’s killing them," I said, my voice a low growl. "It emits a sonic frequency tuned specifically to our hearing. At close range, it causes disorientation, hemorrhaging, and death. It’s a weapon designed for one purpose, to exterminate werewolves."

Theron stared at the device as if it were a venomous snake. "A human weapon... How is this possible? Who would dare?"

"That is the question you should have been asking months ago," I shot back, my gaze sweeping across each of their faces, letting them feel the full weight of my accusation. "But you were too busy to notice."

I pulled a slim data slate from my other pocket and placed it on the table beside the device. "This is a dossier compiled by my intelligence network. It contains financial records, encrypted communications, and sworn testimony. It proves, beyond any doubt, that information has been leaked to human organizations. Our strengths, our weaknesses, even our existence. They are hunting us because they are no longer hunting in the dark. Someone gave them a map."

I let that sink in, watching the color drain from several faces.

"And it proves something else," I continued, my voice dropping dangerously low. I pointed a finger directly at Valerius. "It proves that you, Elder Valerius, were made aware of a potential security breach six months ago by an informant. An informant who was found dead a week later. You received the report. You buried it. You did nothing."

Valerius shot to his feet, his face purple with rage. "This is an outrageous accusation! Slander! I will not be insulted by a young, arrogant Alpha who—"

"Sit down," I commanded, and the raw power of my own Alpha voice slammed into him, forcing him back into his chair with a grunt. The other elders flinched, their eyes wide. They were politicians, not warriors. They had forgotten what true authority felt like.

"You buried it," I repeated, my voice now a cold whisper that carried more menace than a shout. "Just as all of you have buried every report that threatened your comfortable lives. You’ve taken favors, accepted bribes disguised as ’gifts,’ and traded the security of our entire species for your own power and luxury. You have allowed this to happen. The blood of every wolf killed by these devices is on your hands."

High Elder Theron finally found his voice, though it trembled slightly. "The Council will open an immediate investigation. We will..."

"The Council will do nothing," I interrupted. "Because as of this moment, the Council no longer holds any authority over the Emerald Glade pack. Your reign is over."

A collective gasp went through the room. This was heresy. Unthinkable.

"You cannot do that!" an elder shrieked. "The Accords..."

"The Accords are a treaty between packs, not a suicide pact!" I roared, my rage finally breaking free. "They were meant to ensure our collective survival, not to enable the corruption of a select few while the rest of us burn! You have failed in your most sacred duty. You have failed to protect our people. So I will."

I straightened up, my decision absolute. "We are returning to the old ways. Emerald Glade is once again a sovereign nation. We will hunt down the enemies who are killing our people. We will eradicate this threat. And we will handle the traitors who enabled them." I let my gaze linger on Valerius. "And you will stay out of my way. Continue your parties. Enjoy your wine. Because a war is coming, and you are no longer relevant."

I turned my back on them, the ultimate insult. I walked towards the great oak doors, leaving a wake of stunned, horrified silence. I didn’t look back.

The four-hour drive back was a descent from the cold fury of the confrontation into the grim reality of what I had just done. I had declared war on Leon, and I had seceded from the Council, shattering a century of tradition. I had made my pack an island. A fortress. And I had painted a target on its back.

I was two hours from home, the highway a dark, empty ribbon cutting through the dense forest. The adrenaline had faded, leaving a bone-deep weariness. My phone buzzed.

It was a text from Astrid.

’Are you safe? Did it go well? You don’t have any injuries right?’

A small smile touched my lips. I typed back, ’I’m almost home.’

As I hit send, a pair of headlights flared to life in my rearview mirror, approaching at an impossible speed. At the same time, another set appeared ahead, blocking the road. My foot slammed on the brake, the tires screeching on the asphalt. Before I could even react, two more cars swerved out from the dark woods on either side of me, boxing me in completely.

Headlights blinded me from all four directions. The sedan was trapped in a cage of light. I was alone, hours from my pack, surrounded.