Chapter 411

Chapter 411

Chapter 411

XENOIS

Silvia smiled in a way that would have terrified anyone who didn't know her. "I can craft convincing intelligence that will seem authentic while setting up tactical disadvantages for Jerome. How quickly do we need it ready?"

"As soon as possible," I said. "We need to capitalize on this before Jerome realizes how badly his attack failed."

"Failed is an understatement," Samuel said. "He sent an army to kill children and lost most of his force while inflicting minimal casualties. That's not just a defeat—that's a catastrophic loss that undermines his whole operation."

"His people are going to question his leadership," Zade observed. "When a major operation fails this spectacularly, when promised easy targets turn out to be defended by plasma-wielding teenagers and precognitive five-year-olds—that creates doubt in the ranks."

"We should exploit that," I said. "Find ways to amplify the doubt, make his followers question whether Jerome's vendetta is worth the casualties they're taking."

"Information warfare," Silvia said approvingly. "Make Jerome's defeat public knowledge across supernatural communities. Let everyone see that attacking progressive packs doesn't result in easy victories—it results in your forces being vaporized by teenagers."

It felt manipulative. Exploitative. Exactly the kind of psychological warfare tactics that traditionalist alphas had used for centuries.

It was also probably our best strategy for preventing future attacks.

"Do it," I decided. "Spread the story of Jerome's failure. Make sure every supernatural community knows that attacking children in this territory results in total defeat. Use it to undermine his credibility and recruitment."

"What about the prisoners?" Thorne asked. "We have twenty-three of them. That's a lot of potential intelligence."

"Start interrogations," I said. "Standard techniques first. But Thorne—I want results quickly. We need to know if Jerome has follow-up attacks planned, if he has other cells activated, if there are more traitors in our ranks."

"And if standard techniques don't work?" Thorne asked carefully.

I looked at him, at Zade, at my parents. All of them were watching me, waiting to see how I'd answer.

This was the moment. The decision point where I either held to progressive principles or fully embraced the brutal methods Jerome's actions seemed to demand.

"If standard techniques don't work," I said slowly, "we escalate. Carefully. Proportionally. With full documentation and oversight. But we get the information we need."

"That's authorization for enhanced interrogation," Zade said quietly. "You know that, right? You're specifically authorizing torture if it becomes necessary."

"I'm authorizing whatever methods are required to prevent another attack on children," I corrected. "If that includes enhanced interrogation, then yes. That's what I'm authorizing."

My parents exchanged glances that I couldn't quite read.

"That's the right call," Samuel said finally. "I know it goes against your progressive instincts. I know it's not who you wanted to be as alpha. But Jerome forced this choice. You're responding appropriately to the threat."

"Or I'm becoming exactly what I was trying not to be," I said.

"Those aren't mutually exclusive," Silvia pointed out. "You can be progressive about pack policy while being ruthless about external threats. The two exist in tension but they're not incompatible."

Maybe. Or maybe I was just rationalizing increasingly brutal behavior by telling myself it was necessary for protection.

"Set up the interrogations," I told Thorne. "Start tonight. I want preliminary intelligence within twenty-four hours and full intelligence within forty-eight. Whatever it takes."

"Understood," Thorne said, then left to coordinate with our intelligence specialists.

Which left me standing with Zade and my parents in the ruins of a school that had been attacked because Jerome wanted to hurt children to strike at me.

"How are you holding up?" Zade asked quietly.

"I'm fine," I said automatically.

"Xenois," Silvia said sharply. "Don't lie. How are you actually holding up?"

I looked at her, at the concern on her face that she rarely showed so openly, and felt something crack in my carefully maintained composure.

"I'm terrified," I admitted. "Jerome attacked a school. Targeted my children specifically. And if not for Shawn and the boys' training and abilities, if not for pure desperate luck—they could have died. All of them. And it would have been because I wasn't there, because I was working on some other crisis, because I can't be everywhere at once."

"You can't protect them from everything," Samuel said gently. "No alpha can. That's the hardest lesson of leadership—accepting that despite all your power and resources, you can't guarantee anyone's safety."

"That doesn't make it easier," I said.

"It's not supposed to," Silvia said. "It's supposed to drive you to be better, smarter, more strategic about eliminating threats before they can reach your family."

"Which brings us back to Jerome," Zade said. "He's proven he'll attack anywhere, target anyone, use any method. The only way to actually protect your family is to remove him as a threat."

"Kill him," I said flatly.

"Yes," Zade agreed without hesitation. "Not capture, not imprison, not negotiate. Kill him. Permanently. Because as long as he's alive, he's going to keep coming for you and yours."

I'd known this was coming. Had probably known since the moment Jerome tortured my parents. But hearing it stated so baldly—the acknowledgment that we needed to assassinate someone, that capture wasn't sufficient—it still made me flinch.

"That's a line I haven't crossed yet," I said quietly.

"You've killed in combat," Silvia pointed out. "During this attack, during the rescue operation, probably dozens of times in your leadership career."

"That's different," I protested. "Combat is reactive, self-defense, immediate threat response. Assassination is—"

"Proactive threat elimination," Samuel interrupted. "It's making the tactical decision that someone is too dangerous to allow continued existence. And yes, it's different from combat. It's also sometimes necessary."

"We're not asking you to do it yourself," Zade said. "You don't have to be the one to pull the trigger or deliver the killing blow. But you do need to authorize it. Give permission for specialized operatives to hunt Jerome specifically with lethal intent."

"That makes me responsible for his death," I said.

"You're already responsible for everything that happens in your territory," Silvia said. "Every decision, every casualty, every victory. That's what being alpha means. The question isn't whether you're responsible—it's whether you're willing to make the hard choice to protect your people."

They were all watching me, waiting for the decision that would define what kind of alpha I really was.

Progressive reformer who believed in rehabilitation and mercy? Or traditional leader willing to eliminate threats permanently?

I looked across the courtyard at where my sons were being examined by Lynn. At Shawn, who'd led a desperate defense. At the scorched ground that marked where children had fought for their lives.

Jerome had done this. Had orchestrated an attack that could have killed dozens of children. Had specifically targeted my family.

And he'd do it again if given the chance.

"Authorization granted," I said. "Assemble a specialized team. Hunt Jerome. When you find him—eliminate the threat permanently. No capture, no negotiation, no mercy."

"That's the right call," Samuel said.

"Then why does it feel like I just sold part of my soul?" I asked.

"Because you're a good person making necessary but uncomfortable decisions," Silvia said. "That's what separates leaders from tyrants—the ability to feel the weight of these choices while still making them."

Maybe. Or maybe that was just more rationalization.

Either way, the decision was made.

Jerome had declared war on my family.

I'd just declared that war would end with his death.

No more restraint. No more measured responses. No more principles standing between my family and their safety.

Whatever it took.

Whatever I had to become.

My children would be safe.

That was all that mattered now.

Everything else—morality, progressive ideals, the kind of alpha I'd wanted to be—all of it was secondary to keeping my family alive.

Jerome had forced that choice.

Now he'd live with the consequences.

Or more accurately—he'd die with them.

Soon.