Chapter 412

Chapter 412

Chapter 412

XENOIS

I stood at the head of the conference table, watching Lumina present our offensive strategy to the assembled pack elders and allied alpha representatives, and felt something close to pride war with exhaustion in my chest.

She'd been working on this plan for hours—coordinating with intelligence teams, mapping Jerome's known operations, identifying weak points in his coalition structure. Her tactical mind was sharp, methodical, finding patterns and vulnerabilities that others had missed.

"The key is simultaneous strikes," Lumina explained, pointing to various markers on the holographic display. "If we hit one location, Jerome pulls resources from others to reinforce. But if we attack everywhere at once, he can't redistribute effectively. His forces become isolated, vulnerable."

The pack elders—many of whom had openly opposed progressive reforms just weeks ago—were listening with grudging respect. After yesterday's school attack, after watching non-traditional pack members fight to protect their children, their prejudices had taken a significant hit.

Elder Morrison, who'd been particularly vocal about questioning Shawn's adoption, was nodding along with Lumina's analysis. Elder Chen, who'd argued against accepting Lake and Riley, was taking notes.

Funny how near-death experiences changed perspectives.

"What about civilian casualties?" Elder Thompson asked. "If we're attacking this many locations simultaneously, there's bound to be collateral damage."

"We minimize where possible," Lumina said firmly. "But we don't let concern about collateral damage paralyze us into inaction. Jerome demonstrated yesterday that he has no qualms about targeting children. We can't afford to be more cautious than our enemy."

"Luna Lumina is correct," Elder Morrison agreed, and I nearly did a double-take. Morrison agreeing with Lumina? About aggressive military action? "The school attack crossed every line. We respond proportionally or we invite more attacks on our most vulnerable."

Lumina continued outlining specific operational details—team compositions, coordination protocols, contingency plans for various scenarios. She was in her element, commanding the room with the kind of natural authority that came from actually knowing what she was talking about.

I watched her move between display screens, gesture at tactical overlays, field questions from seasoned warriors with confidence and precision. This was Luna Lumina Blackwood in full form—not just my mate, but a leader in her own right.

She paused mid-sentence, her hand moving to her chest. A small gesture, barely noticeable, but I caught it immediately through our mate bond.

Something was wrong.

"As I was saying," Lumina continued, shaking off whatever she'd felt, "the eastern cell is our primary target for the first wave because—"

She stopped again, this time pressing her palm flat against her sternum. Her expression flickered—confusion, then concern, then determination to push through.

"Luna?" Thorne asked from his position at her right. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Lumina said, though her voice was slightly strained. "Just—probably stress. Yesterday was—"

She didn't finish the sentence.

Her eyes went wide, genuine fear flashing across her face. Her hand clutched at her chest, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt.

"Lumina?" I was moving before conscious thought caught up, crossing the distance between us.

"I can't—" she gasped, her face going pale. "Something's wrong. My chest—"

Then she collapsed.

I caught her before she hit the ground, gathering her into my arms as panic exploded through me.

"Get Lynn!" I shouted. "Now!"

But even as I held her, as people rushed around us calling for medical help, something strange was happening.

The room seemed to shift.

Not physically—everything was still there, still solid. But overlaying the conference room, like a double exposure photograph, I saw another scene.

A bedroom. Our bedroom.

And I was holding Lumina there too. Holding her body as she went limp in my arms, her final breath leaving her lips.

"You never deserved us," she whispered in that vision, tears streaming down her face. "If I had another chance, I would never stay with you. I would save my son from your indifference."

"No," I gasped, clutching the Lumina in my arms—the real Lumina, in the conference room, surrounded by pack members. "No, not like this. Please not like this."

But the visions kept overlapping. Conference room and bedroom, interchanging rapidly. In one, people were shouting for medical help. In the other, I was alone, howling my grief into emptiness.

"Where's Ollie?" I heard myself ask in that other timeline, that other version of events. "Where is our son?"

"He's gone," vision-Lumina whispered. "He's dead, Xenois."

"Alpha Xenois!" Someone was shaking me—Thorne, I realized distantly. "Lynn's here! Let him examine her!"

I loosened my grip enough for Lynn to access Lumina, but I couldn't let go completely. Couldn't stop seeing that other scene, that other version where I'd held her dead body while she cursed me with her final words.

"Heart attack," Lynn said grimly, his healing abilities activating as he assessed her condition. "Cardiac arrest. I'm stabilizing her now but we need to get her to the hospital immediately."

Heart attack. Just like in the vision.

"This can't be happening," I said, my voice breaking. "This isn't—I've seen this before. I've lived this before."

"Alpha, you're not making sense," Thorne said, but there was concern in his voice that went beyond Lumina's collapse. "When have you seen this?"

The nightmare. Three months ago. I'd woken screaming, convinced Lumina had died, convinced I'd lost Ollie. She'd held me while I sobbed, assured me it was just a nightmare, that everything was fine.

But it hadn't felt like a nightmare. It had felt like a memory.

A memory of something that had already happened. Or could have happened. Or would happen in some other version of events.

"Get her to the hospital," I commanded, forcing myself to focus on the present. "Now. Do whatever it takes to stabilize her."

They moved Lumina onto a stretcher that someone had produced. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow but present. Alive. Still alive.

Not like in the vision where she'd died in my arms after watching our son die first.

Ollie. Where was Ollie?

"The children," I said urgently to Thorne. "Get the children. Bring them to the hospital. I need to see them. I need to know they're safe."

"They're fine," Thorne assured me. "They're with your parents. But Xenois, you're scaring me. What's going on?"