Chapter 166 Apology Flowers
Jax appeared in the doorway, his face pale beneath the lingering smudge of tactical grease. He held a tablet in one hand and a printed sheet of the decrypted logs in the other.
"Magda," Jax said, his voice tight. "You might want to see this. The first name on the transfer list from thirty years ago... the one who authorized the 'final disposal' of the last recorded Elemental unit."
He slid the paper across the table. Magda squinted at the faded ink, and her breath hitched. The name wasn't a stranger. It was a name still active on the High Council today.
"Julian Northcott," Magda whispered, her face turning a sickly shade of grey. "He was just a junior administrator back then. He was the one who handed me the first set of files."Magda squinted at the faded ink on the paper Jax had slid across the table. Her breath hitched, a sharp, rattling sound that seemed to pull the very air out of the room. The name wasn't a stranger. It wasn't just a ghost from a dusty file; it was a name that carried the weight of a thousand sins.
"Julian Northcott," Magda whispered, her face turning a sickly, ashen shade of grey. Her hand trembled as she traced the letters. "He was just a junior administrator back then—a cold, ambitious boy who thrived on the clinical nature of the work. He was the one who handed me the first set of files. He was the one who called the screams 'background noise' and the deaths 'statistical anomalies.'"
The room went cold. Fennigan’s grip on the back of Leela’s chair tightened until the wood groaned under the pressure of his Alpha strength.
"Northcott," Fennigan spat the name like it was poison. "He was the one leading the conversation last night. He was the one who tried to talk to me about 'tradition' and 'legacy' while eyeing my mate like she was a piece of jewelry for his collection."
Leela felt a shiver of pure, icy rage crawl up her spine. The man who had been smiling at her over silver cutlery, the man who had dared to comment on her modesty, was the same man who had presided over the slaughter of her ancestors. The gold stone at her chest didn't just glow; it flared, an angry, jagged emerald light that cast long, distorted shadows against the walls.
"He didn't just oversee the end of the old Elementals," Magda said, her voice gaining a hard, sharp edge as she looked at Jax. "He learned from it. If he’s still on the Council, and he’s signing off on these new logs, he isn't just looking for specimens. He’s looking to perfect what they started fifty years ago. Who knows how far this all goes back with the high council."
Jax nodded grimly, tapping the tablet. "And he’s not just signing papers. According to the GPS pings we pulled from his private server, Northcott has been making monthly trips to a 'sanatorium' in the Blackridge Basin. It’s listed as a charitable retreat, but the energy readings coming off that place in the logs... they aren't human. And they aren't standard shifter."
Leela looked at Ginny, whose hand was still protective over her belly. The fear in the room was palpable, but beneath it, a new, fiercer energy was rising. The "Specimen Logs" weren't just a list of victims anymore; they were a roadmap to Northcott’s undoing.
"He thinks he's safe because he's hidden behind a Council seal and a mountain of red tape," Leela said, her voice vibrating with the power of the earth beneath them. "But he forgot one thing. Blackwood doesn't follow the Council's laws. We follow the Pack's."
Fennigan looked at Jax, his amber eyes locked in a predatory stare. "How many guards at the Basin?"
"Too many for a 'charitable retreat,'" Jax replied. "But they’re expecting a political move. They’re expecting letters and legalities. They aren't expecting a Blackwood breach team."
Magda stood up, her old joints popping as she straightened her back. "If you're going after Northcott, you'd better be ready for what you find. That man doesn't just keep secrets; he grafts them into the skin."
The buzz of the house intercom cut through the heavy silence following Magda’s revelation. Fennigan stepped away from the table, his hand resting instinctively on the hilt of his blade.
"Alpha," the gate guard’s voice crackled, sounding confused. "We have a courier here. Official Council seal. He’s... well, he’s carrying a massive arrangement of lilies and white roses. He says it’s an urgent delivery for the Luna from Chancellor Northcott."
Fennigan’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening. "Flowers? Bring him up."
Minutes later, the courier was marched into the Great Room, looking dwarfed by the massive, overflowing bouquet of white blooms in his arms. The scent of the lilies was thick and cloying, immediately warring with the natural pine and cedar of the house.
He set the vase down on the table with trembling hands and pulled a cream-colored card from the center of the arrangement.
"Alpha... Luna," he stammered, bowing low. " Chancellor Northcott asked me to deliver these personally. He wished to offer his sincerest apologies for the 'unfortunate and narrow-minded' comments made by the Elders regarding the Luna’s attire last night."
The courier swallowed hard, glancing at the card. "He said, and I quote, that while the Elder's comments were 'inappropriate and poorly timed,' they did perhaps 'hit the nail on the head' regarding the... provocative nature of the evening. He hopes these flowers serve as a peace offering."
Leela stepped toward the table, her eyes narrow. As she neared the flowers, the stone at her chest reacted. The beautiful, swirling galaxy of red, green, white and blue was suddenly sucked away. In its place, the gem flared with a harsh, toxic green light. It was so bright it cast a sickly emerald glow over the white petals of the lilies.
The warning was unmistakable. The stone wasn't sensing an apology; it was sensing the man behind the gesture.
"Hit the nail on the head?" Fennigan repeated, his voice dropping into a lethal, low frequency. He stepped into the courier's space, looming over him like a mountain. "He’s apologizing for the insult while repeating it in the same breath."
Leela didn't touch the flowers. She watched the green light of her stone pulse rhythmically against the vase. "He didn't send these to apologize, Fenn. He sent these to see if he could get past our gates. To see if a 'gesture of goodwill' would make us drop our guard."
Magda stepped forward, her nose wrinkling at the floral scent. "Lilies. The flowers of the dead," she rasped, her eyes flitting to the toxic green glow of Leela's stone. "Get them out of this house."
Fennigan looked at the courier, his amber eyes flashing with a predatory heat. "Take your 'peace offering' back to Northcott. Tell him the Luna doesn't care for his flowers, and the Alpha doesn't care for his insults. Tell him the nail he thinks he hit is the one that's going to seal his own coffin."