Chapter 238 They Don't Expect a Revolution
Vannie reached into a nearby woven basket, pulling out a perfectly warm, soft crescent roll, and stepped around the island to hand it directly to the babbling toddler. Caspian took it with a triumphant, toothy grin, his serious Alpha-in-training act instantly vanishing at the sight of fresh baking. Briar immediately let out a demanding squeal from Elana's other knee, prompting Vannie to quickly hand over a second roll to keep the peace.
Elana laughed, carefully shifting the happily chewing twins in her lap as she wheeled herself closer to the granite island. The fierce Matriarch seamlessly transitioned into event-planning mode.
"Alright, Vannie, breathe," Elana instructed gently, pulling a notepad and a pen from a nearby drawer. "You are not doing this alone. We will pull every available Omega from the greenhouse and the lower village to help prep. We need a massive bonfire menu—roasted boar, venison, kegs of dark ale, and enough sweets to keep the visiting Lunas happy. Let's start the lists."
As the older women immediately dove into the massive culinary logistics of the cover story, Leela turned in Fennigan's arms. She rested her hands on his broad chest, her silver eyes looking up into his. The domestic warmth of the kitchen was beautiful, but the Luna knew a war was brewing just beneath the surface.
"So," Leela murmured softly, keeping her voice low enough so Vannie wouldn't overhear the military details. "If the invitations just went out... has anyone actually answered yet?"
Fennigan offered her a sharp, predatory smile, his large hand coming up to gently cup her cheek.
"Alpha Draven already RSVP'd," Fennigan told her quietly, his thumb brushing over her skin. "He’s bringing his entourage, including Flynn and Liam. And Jax's terminal was pinging non-stop before we even left the study. The independent packs are ready, Lee. They're coming."
Leela’s smile slowly faded as the reality of their bold, incredibly dangerous opening move settled over her. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure Vannie was completely absorbed in pulling a massive tray of biscuits from the oven.
Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, pitched perfectly for only the sharp, enhanced hearing of her Alpha, his Beta, and the former Luna.
"What are we going to do about the fallout?" Leela asked softly. "We sent Damon's body straight to the High Council. They have him."
Jax paused, his piece of bacon hovering inches from his mouth. Beside the granite island, Elana’s pen stopped moving across her notepad, the ink bleeding a tiny, dark spot onto the paper. The heavy, visceral weight of the execution hung in the small, insulated space between them, a stark contrast to the bright morning sun streaming through the windows. Sending the dead Matriarch's husband to the capital was a massive, aggressive statement.
Fennigan’s jaw tightened, but his silver eyes remained cool, calculated, and fiercely analytical.
"We do exactly what we planned," Fennigan rumbled, his deep voice a smooth, steady vibration against Leela's back. "We go on nice and normal. We throw the bonfire."
"But won't they retaliate?" Leela pressed, her protective instincts flaring for the pack. "If they know we killed him—"
"If there was some kind of magical or technological failsafe that alerted the High Council to exactly why we killed him," Jax interrupted quietly, leaning forward, "they would have been here already. The borders would be swarming with enforcers. But the perimeter is dead quiet."
Fennigan nodded, his hand resting warmly over Leela's baby bump to keep her anchored. "No one but us knows about the slaughterhouse yet. The Council just assumes this was a brutal, internal pack dispute—an Alpha securing his absolute reign by removing his predecessor. They expect violence from us. They don't expect a revolution."
Elana didn't look up from her grocery lists, maintaining the perfect, relaxed illusion of a doting grandmother for Vannie's sake as Caspian happily chewed his crescent roll in her lap. But her voice, when she spoke, was laced with absolute certainty and a cold, sharp layer of disgust.
"Fennigan is right," Elana stated quietly. "Because when I looked at those ledgers... I don't think even the High Council knew exactly how demented he truly was. I don't think anyone else actually knew the physical, grotesque depths of his secrets."
"Not even Vane?" Jax asked, his eyes narrowing at the mention of the treacherous Council operative.
"I don't even think Vane knew the full extent of it," Fennigan replied, his glowing eyes hardening with resolve. "Vane might be a ruthless Council snake who funded the research, but the cloning... the stolen tissue... the rings. That specific, twisted madness was entirely Damon's."
The Alpha family fell into a unified, heavy silence. The secret of the Vault was still safe. By sending Damon's body to the Council without a word of explanation, Fennigan had forced the capital to guess his motives. And while the Council scrambled to understand the political assassination, the Blackwood pack was going to throw a massive, deceptive celebration right under their noses.
By mid-afternoon, the Blackwood pack had seamlessly divided and conquered to prepare for the massive influx of allied wolves.
Fennigan and Jax had stripped off their clothes at the edge of the tree line, their bones snapping and reforming in a fluid, violent rush as they shifted into their towering, lethal wolf forms. Accompanied by a dozen of their best trackers, the Alpha and Beta tore into the deep woods to hunt down the sheer tonnage of venison and boar Vannie had aggressively demanded.
Meanwhile, the women took on the logistics of the town.
Leela, Ginny, Elana, and Sarah walked into the quaint, bustling center of Blackwood Square to grab the massive bulk basics—flour, sugar, salt, and spices—that the packhouse kitchen desperately needed. It was the exact same picturesque, cobblestone plaza they had visited weeks ago when they took Sarah to buy her formal dress, lined with familiar, pack-run bakeries and supply shops.
For a few precious hours, walking beneath the crisp, bright afternoon sun, everything almost seemed entirely normal.
Leela pushed the heavy double stroller over the cobblestones. Inside, Caspian and Briar were completely oblivious to the looming war, entirely focused on continuing their intense, highly animated babbling session from the morning. Their little hands waved in the air as they pointed at the passing storefronts, perfectly content.
Beside her, Ginny was practically glowing. The new mother walked with a relaxed, easy grace, wearing a soft fabric sling securely across her chest. Tucked safely inside, pressed right against her heart, tiny Iggy slept soundly, lulled by the gentle, rhythmic sway of his mother's steps.
Taking up the rear was Elana, and her newly assigned chauffeur.
Toby had shadowed the women into town under the strict orders of his Alpha, but the young Gamma guard had quickly found himself put to a very different kind of use. The heavy emotional toll of the night had inevitably drained Elana’s physical reserves, but the fierce Matriarch absolutely refused to show an ounce of weakness in public.