Chapter 58 The Secret Meeting (Gabriel POV)
The abandoned chapel smelled like wet stone and betrayal, fitting, considering what we were about to plan.
I'd chosen this location specifically because it sat half a mile from the main compound, far enough that casual patrols wouldn't stumble across us but close enough to reach quickly if Edmund's hunters decided tonight was the night to stop pretending they were contractors. The roof had holes, moonlight streaming through in silver patches that made everyone's eyes gleam when they caught the light wrong.
Fifteen people. That's all we had.
Rachel arrived first, moving silent as always, Thomas right behind her. My pack… what was left of it. Eight survivors from Edmund's previous operations, each one a reminder of how many we'd lost.
Declan came next with his core group. Callum, perpetually attached to his tablet. Owen, who somehow found humor even when discussing mass murder. Kieran, looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else. Liam and Connor, the twins who finished each other's sentences in ways that would be adorable if they weren't discussing combat tactics.
Siobhan Wilde strode in like she owned the place, her second Maeve at her side. The Irish Border Pack Alpha didn't waste time on pleasantries, just nodded and claimed a spot near the broken altar.
Rowan ap Rhys took longer, his age showing in the careful way he navigated debris. But his eyes were sharp, missing nothing. Helena from his pack hovered close, protective of the old Alpha.
"Cozy," Maeve observed, eyeing the crumbling walls. "Nothing says 'secret tactical planning' like potential structural collapse."
"The structural collapse is atmospheric," Owen said. "Really sets the mood."
"The mood being 'we're all going to die'?"
"Exactly."
I cleared my throat. "Everyone's here. Good. We can start."
"With what?" Kieran folded his arms. "More paranoid theories about Edmund being mastermind instead of wildlife researcher?"
"With facts." I pulled out a folder… actual paper, because electronics could be hacked and I wasn't taking chances. "Edmund Ashford isn't working alone. The twenty-three hunters on campus are just the visible portion of a network that spans three continents."
Silence. The kind that meant I had their attention.
I spread documents across a makeshift table, really just planks balanced on broken pews. "These are communication logs recovered from Edmund's encrypted server. Emails, phone records, financial transfers. He's been coordinating with government agencies for fifteen years."
"Government?" Siobhan leaned forward. "Which agencies?"
"In Britain, a division within the Home Office that officially doesn't exist. In France, a unit inside the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure. In Germany, a department of the Bundespolizei that has no public records." I tapped each document. "All of them dedicated to what they call 'supernatural threat management.'"
"Christ," Declan muttered. "That's not just hunting. That's policy."
"Exactly. Edmund provides research, tactical intelligence, anatomical data on werewolves. In exchange, he gets funding, equipment, legal protection, and most importantly… bodies. Every werewolf he kills, the government classifies it as animal control. No investigations, no consequences."
Rachel moved closer, scanning the documents with the focused intensity she brought to everything. "These transfers. Millions of pounds over a decade."
"Edmund's operation is well-funded and well-protected. He's not some rogue hunter we can eliminate and solve the problem. He's a contractor working for organizations that want werewolves extinct."
"Fuck," Maeve said eloquently.
"Indeed." I pulled out another set of documents. "But it gets worse. Edmund has international contacts. Hunter families in Poland, Italy, Spain—all coordinated through something called the European Supernatural Management Coalition."
"Management," Rowan repeated, his voice bitter. "Interesting euphemism for genocide."
"They're very fond of euphemisms. 'Population control.' 'Threat mitigation.' 'Specimen acquisition.'" I met his eyes. "They've been systematically eliminating werewolf packs for decades. We only survived because we stayed small, stayed mobile, never established permanent territory."
Thomas spoke up, his voice rough. "The Cornwall massacre three years ago. Twelve wolves killed in one night. We thought it was rival pack attack."
"It was Edmund. He coordinated with local hunters, used intelligence from British government sources, and made it look like internal werewolf violence." I found that file, slid it across. "He's done it seventeen times that I've documented. Probably more I haven't found yet."
Declan was reading the Cornwall file, his expression darkening. "This lists pack members by name. Ages. Abilities. Patrol schedules."
"Edmund is thorough. That's why he's survived twenty years of hunting werewolves while most hunters die within three."
"So we can't just kill him," Siobhan said. "Because the network continues without him."
"Correct. Killing Edmund might buy us time, but another contractor takes his place within months. The organizations funding this don't care about individuals—they care about results."
"Then what's the solution?" Kieran demanded. "We can't fight entire governments."
"No. But we can expose them." I pulled out the final document—the one I'd been working on for months. "Public scandal. Force human authorities to acknowledge what's happening. Make the conspiracy too visible to maintain."
Callum looked up from the files he'd been photographing with his tablet. "You want to go public? Reveal the supernatural world exists?"
"Partially. Strategically." I'd thought this through from every angle. "Not a press conference announcing werewolves. But leaked documents proving government agencies have been funding extermination campaigns against British citizens. Human rights violations, illegal killings, conspiracy to commit mass murder."
"The humans won't care if the victims are werewolves," Helena said.
"They will if we frame it correctly. Government agencies operating secret kill programs against minority populations. Millions in taxpayer money funding paramilitary operations with no oversight. International coordination to eliminate people who happen to have genetic anomalies." I met her skeptical gaze. "We don't lead with 'werewolves exist.' We lead with 'your government is murdering citizens and covering it up.'"
"That's..." Declan paused. "Actually clever."
"Thank you. I've had years to consider options." I pointed to the communication logs. "These emails reference 'targets' and 'assets' but never specify werewolves explicitly. To human readers, it looks like government conspiracy against unspecified minority group. Civil rights organizations will investigate. Journalists will dig. Political opponents will demand accountability."
"And by the time anyone figures out the targets are actually werewolves," Maeve said slowly, "the agencies are already exposed. Can't put that particular cat back in the bag."
"Precisely. The conspiracy becomes public scandal. Government agencies get investigated, defunded, possibly prosecuted. Edmund loses his protection, his funding, his legal immunity. The hunter network collapses because they can't operate openly."
Rachel was nodding. "It's indirect. Uses human systems against themselves."
"Humans are very good at destroying their own institutions once scandal breaks. We just need to point them in the right direction."
"There's a massive problem with this plan," Rowan said. "It requires surviving long enough to implement it. Edmund attacks in two weeks. How do we expose the conspiracy while also not dying?"
"We split objectives." I'd planned this part carefully. "During the tournament, some of us fight. Others focus on documentation, evidence gathering, getting information to journalists and human rights organizations positioned to act."
"Journalists?" Kieran sounded appalled. "We're trusting humans with this?"
"We're using humans. There's a difference." I pulled out a list of names. "These are investigative reporters who've already published on government corruption. They have established credibility, large audiences, and most importantly… they're already suspicious of intelligence agencies. We feed them documents, let them think they've discovered it themselves, and they do what journalists do best: make scandals go viral."
Siobhan took the list, scanning names. "I recognize three of these. Broke stories on illegal surveillance programs, black site operations. They're legitimate."
"And they're hungry for the kind of story that wins awards. Government conspiracy, international coordination, massive coverup… that's journalism gold." I pointed to the communication logs again. "We give them the emails, the financial records, the evidence trail. They verify it independently because journalists are paranoid about being fooled. Once verified, they publish."
"While Edmund is busy trying to murder us all underground," Declan said.
"Ideally, the exposure happens before his attack. Media coverage forces him to abort or risk bringing scrutiny to the entire operation. Government agencies cut him loose to save themselves. His hunter network loses funding and protection."
"That's optimistic," Connor observed.
"That's the best case scenario. Worst case, exposure happens after the attack. Edmund succeeds in killing some of us, but the documentation goes public anyway. His government backers can't protect him because they're under investigation. He faces murder charges, his network collapses, and at least the survivors don't spend the rest of their lives being hunted."
The chapel fell quiet while everyone processed.
Finally, Maeve spoke. "You're saying we might all die, but at least we'll take the hunter network down with us."
"I'm saying we plan for multiple outcomes. Best case, exposure prevents the attack. Realistic case, we fight and some survive while others ensure evidence reaches journalists. Worst case, we die but the next generation doesn't face the same threat."
"Inspiring," Owen muttered. "Really getting those motivational vibes."
"I'm not here to inspire. I'm here to present strategy that accounts for reality." I met each person's eyes. "Edmund has spent fifteen years building a network designed to exterminate werewolves. We've had weeks to prepare a counter. Optimism is a liability. Pragmatism keeps people alive."
Declan stood, moving to study the documents more carefully. "Who delivers the evidence to journalists? If we're fighting underground, we can't also be managing media exposure."
"Freya," I said. "She's witch, not werewolf. Edmund's trap targets wolves specifically. She can move freely during the attack, contact journalists, coordinate evidence release."
"Freya's agreed to this?" Callum asked.
"I haven't asked her yet. But she's been documenting everything for months… she understands the value of records." I pulled out another folder. "These are the journalist contact details, email addresses, verification protocols. Someone needs to brief Freya on execution."
"I'll do it," Rachel volunteered. "She trusts me more than you anyway."
"Fair point."
Rowan had been quiet, studying the layout of Edmund's hunter network. Now he spoke, voice heavy with age. "The Welsh Pack lost eleven members over ten years. I blamed myself for not protecting them better. You're saying Edmund orchestrated their deaths?"
"Nine of them, yes. The other two were actually accidents, vehicle collision, climbing fall. But nine were Edmund's work." I found those files, handed them over gently. "I'm sorry. If I'd discovered the pattern sooner..."
"Don't." Rowan's hands shook slightly as he read. "Don't apologize for Edmund's actions. He's responsible, not you." His jaw clenched. "My daughter was among those nine. Twenty-three years old. 'Hunting accident' according to official report."
"Bronwyn Rhys. Killed by silver arrow while running patrol on April fourteenth, seven years ago." I'd memorized the names… all of them. "Edmund filed her death as wildlife control, claimed she was attacking livestock."
"She was vegetarian," Rowan said quietly. "Didn't even eat meat in human form. The idea she'd attack livestock was absurd, but authorities accepted it." He looked up, eyes wet. "I want Edmund Ashford dead. I want his entire network destroyed. Whatever it takes."
The raw pain in his voice silenced everyone.
"We'll destroy it," I said. "Not just for revenge, though that's valid. But to ensure he can't do this to anyone else's daughter."
Siobhan cleared her throat. "Right. So. Tactical question… if some of us are fighting and others are managing evidence exposure, who does what?"
"Volunteers basis," Declan said before I could. "Nobody gets assigned to probable death duty without choosing it."
"I'll fight." Kieran, predictably. "I'm not hiding while others risk themselves."
"I'll manage documentation," Callum said. "My organizational skills are better used coordinating evidence than combat."
Owen raised his hand. "I'd like to state for the record that I have no combat skills, minimal strategic value, and a strong preference for not dying. Can I help with the not-dying tasks?"
Despite everything, people laughed.
"You can assist Callum," Declan said. "Evidence coordination needs multiple people to ensure redundancy if something goes wrong."
"Redundancy. I like that word. Very survival-oriented."
Thomas stepped forward. "Gabriel and I will position near the exits Edmund plans to seal. If we can prevent the lockdown, the trap fails."
"That's suicide," Helena protested.
"That's tactical necessity," Thomas corrected. "Someone has to stop those barricades from activating. Might as well be people who've survived Edmund before and know his patterns."
Rachel nodded. "I'll coordinate with Siobhan's pack on medical stations. If people get injured, we need treatment locations Edmund hasn't anticipated."
"The old groundskeeper's cottage," Maeve suggested. "Northeast side of campus, abandoned for years. Edmund won't have mapped it."
"Good. I'll prep supplies there." Rachel was already making notes.
One by one, volunteers claimed roles. Fighters, coordinators, scouts, medical support. The plan took shape, messy and desperate but better than nothing.
"What about Vivienne?" Liam asked. "Where does she fit in all this?"
Everyone looked at me.
"Vivienne's role depends on what Silvermane abilities she masters in the next two weeks," I said carefully. "If she can force transformation, she locks hunters who've been bitten mid-shift. If she can project dominance, she coordinates multiple packs during chaos. If she can access ancestral combat knowledge, she fights alongside experienced warriors."
"And if she can't master any of that in time?" Connor asked.
"Then she stays protected in the center, uses whatever abilities she has, and survives. Vivienne is Silvermane heir… the only confirmed living member of the bloodline besides me. She's valuable beyond her combat applications."
"You mean she's bait," Kieran said bluntly.
"I mean she's insurance that the bloodline continues regardless of what happens to the rest of us." I didn't flinch from the accusation. "Yes, Edmund might focus on her specifically. Yes, that draws attention away from others. Yes, that makes her bait in practical terms. But it also means protecting her is strategic priority, not just emotional attachment."
Declan's expression said he wanted to argue, but he understood the tactical reality. Vivienne was both asset and target, couldn't separate those things even if we wanted to.
"Speaking of Vivienne," Rowan said. "Her father is the one orchestrating this genocide. How do we know she won't sabotage our plans to protect him?"
"Because Edmund spent eighteen years torturing her," I said flatly. "Suppressing her nature, injecting her with silver compounds, using her as unwitting research subject. She's got more reason to hate him than anyone in this room."
"Familial loyalty is complicated."
"Not that complicated. Vivienne found Edmund's files documenting how he planned to use her as bait, how he's prepared to kill her if she won't cooperate, how he considers her death acceptable collateral damage." I pulled out that specific document… the one that still made me furious. "She knows exactly what Edmund is. There's no loyalty left to complicate."
Siobhan took the document, read it, and swore creatively in Irish. "He really did plan her entire existence as bait. That's sociopathic."
"That's Edmund. Functional sociopath with scientific detachment and no empathy." I'd spent years analyzing how he thought. "He genuinely believes he's protecting humanity from monsters. The fact that he created and manipulated those 'monsters' doesn't register as contradictory."
"So we can't appeal to his conscience," Helena said. "Because he doesn't have one."
"We can't appeal to anything. We can only stop him."
Declan collected the scattered documents, organizing them into coherent piles. "Right. So. Two weeks. We coordinate between three packs, prepare hidden weapon caches, establish emergency exits, brief Freya on journalist contacts, continue Vivienne's training, and somehow not let Edmund notice we're planning."
"When you list it like that, it sounds difficult," Owen observed.
"It is difficult. But we've got fifteen committed people and possibly more as others realize the threat is real." Declan looked around the chapel. "Marcus is reconsidering, I could see him processing during the summit. If Highland Pack joins, that's significant numbers."
"Highland Pack is forty-three wolves," Siobhan confirmed. "Marcus is stubborn but not stupid. Once he investigates independently and verifies evidence, he'll coordinate."
"So potentially four packs unified," I said. "Still not ideal against Edmund's network, but workable."
"What about the other Alphas?" Liam asked. "Brennan, Thorne, the others who didn't believe?"
"We warn them once more before the tournament," Declan decided. "Clear conscience. After that, they make their own choices about preparation."
Rachel checked her watch. "We've been here ninety minutes. Should probably disperse before someone notices fifteen people missing simultaneously."
"Agreed." I started collecting documents. "Callum, you coordinate evidence documentation with Owen and Freya. Rachel handles medical preparation with Maeve. Thomas and I position for exit sabotage. Declan manages pack coordination with Siobhan and Rowan. Everyone else, your assignments stand from earlier."
People filed out in small groups… two or three at a time, spaced to avoid obvious pattern. Professional paranoia born from years of survival.
Declan lingered after the others left. "You really think the media exposure will work?"
"I think it's our best option for long-term survival," I said honestly. "Killing Edmund solves the immediate problem. Exposing the network prevents the next Edmund from taking his place."
"And if we all die before the exposure matters?"
"Then at least we tried something other than just fighting and hoping." I met his eyes. "You're Alpha. You've been trained to think in terms of immediate threats, pack defense, territorial protection. But this isn't just about defending territory. This is about changing the entire dynamic between humans and werewolves. Making it too costly for governments to fund extermination programs."
He was quiet for a long moment. "My father would have hated this plan. Too indirect, too dependent on human systems."
"Your father was killed by a hunter who had government backing and legal immunity," I said bluntly. "Direct confrontation didn't save him. Maybe indirect approach works better."
"Maybe." He headed for the door, paused. "Gabriel? Thank you. For organizing this. For having a plan beyond 'fight and hope.'"
"Don't thank me yet. Thank me if we survive."
After he left, I stood alone in the abandoned chapel, surrounded by moonlight and the weight of fifteen people's lives depending on plans I'd developed over years of running and hiding.
No pressure.
I looked at the documents I'd spent months compiling, proof of Edmund's network, evidence of government complicity, the journalist contacts who could make it all public.
"This better work," I said to the empty chapel.
The moonlight offered no reassurance.