Chapter 83 You Were Saying
Vane didn't back down. The accusation of heresy seemed to snap something fragile behind his eyes. His face twisted into a sneer of pure, unfiltered ugly.
"You speak of the Divine?" Vane screamed, spittle flying from his lips as he lost all pretense of judicial calm. "Do not preach to me about the Goddess, boy! That 'miracle' you cling to was nothing but a show! A parlor trick thought up by a desperate Elemental to save her own skin!"
He jabbed a finger toward the empty house, his voice rising to a hysterical pitch.
"She manipulated the energy! She faked the blessing! She did it to save herself and any of her future mutts!"
The word hung in the air like a gunshot.
Fennigan didn't move. He didn't even blink. But the temperature on the porch dropped so fast that frost began to crawl up the railing next to Jax’s hand.
"Those so-called mutts," Fennigan said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that vibrated in the chests of every wolf present, "are my pups."
He took one heavy step forward, forcing Vane to stumble back onto the gravel.
"They are Blackwood Heirs," Fennigan roared, the sound tearing out of his throat. "And they have more royal blood in their little fingers than you have in your entire council!"
CRACK-BOOM!
A blinding, jagged streak of white lightning tore through the pristine, cloudless blue sky. It didn't hit the ground; it struck the air directly above Vane’s head, sizzling with the smell of ozone and ancient power. The thunderclap that followed was instantaneous and deafening, shaking the SUVs on their suspensions.
There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. The sun was shining. The birds had been singing moments before.
Now, there was dead silence.
Every wolf froze. Damon lowered the barrel of the shotgun just an inch, his eyes wide. Jax looked up at the clear sky, his mouth slightly open. The enforcers looked at each other, their hands hovering over their weapons but terrified to draw them.
Even Vane looked up, his face draining of all color as the echo of the thunder rolled away into the mountains, leaving a heavy, undeniable static charge in the air.
Fennigan smiled. It was a cold, wolfish baring of teeth.
"You were saying?" Fennigan whispered into the silence. "Something about a 'show'?"
The stone floor of the ancient cabin vibrated under Leela’s bare feet. The thunderclap that had torn through the sky moments ago hadn't just been loud; it had felt like the earth cracking open.
In the Grove, the air was usually still and sweet, smelling of wildflowers and old magic. Now, it crackled with static.
Briar was screaming. The sudden boom had terrified her, and she was currently clinging to her mother’s shirt with a grip that defied her age, her little face red and wet with tears.
"Shh, shh, my brave girl," Leela murmured, pacing the length of the small braided rug in front of the fire. She bounced Briar rhythmically, tucking the toddler’s head under her chin to muffle the sound of the world. "It’s okay. It’s just... it’s just the sky talking back."
On the worn velvet sofa, Ginny sat perfectly still. In her arms, Briar's twin, Caspian was dead to the world. His mouth was slightly open, a little drool on his chin, completely unbothered by the fact that the atmosphere was charged with enough electricity to jump-start a car.
"This boy," Ginny whispered, shaking her head in disbelief as she smoothed Caspian’s hair. "I think this child could sleep through the apocalypse. He gets that from uncle Jax. Nothing rattles him."
Leela didn't smile. She couldn't. She spun around at the fireplace, her eyes wide and frantic as she looked at her sister-in-law.
"Something is wrong," Leela said, her voice tight. "That wasn't a storm, Ginny. The sky was clear when we left. That was power."
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to reach down the mate bond—the golden, invisible thread that tied her soul to Fennigan’s. usually, she could feel his warmth, his protectiveness, his worry.
Right now, she felt ice.
"He's too calm," Leela gasped, her hand flying to her chest, right over her heart. "I can feel him. It’s not the calm of peace. It’s... it’s the calm before a murder rampage. It’s the silence before the wolf snaps the neck."
She tried to push a wave of her own serenity down the link. She tried to send him images of the stream, of the moss, of the babies safe in the cabin. She tried to be his anchor.
But her own heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her fear for him—and for what Vane might force him to do—was clouding the connection. Every time she tried to ground him, her own panic caused the link to fray.
"I can't reach him," Leela choked out, clutching Briar tighter. "I can't ground him, Ginny. My heart is racing too fast. If he loses control... if he kills a High Council Judge on the front porch... there’s no coming back from that. They’ll burn the Charter."
Ginny shifted Caspian to one arm and reached out, grabbing Leela’s wrist as she paced by.
"Stop," Ginny ordered, her voice firm. "Look at me. Fennigan is not just a wolf anymore, Lee. He’s a father. He knows what’s at stake."
"He's an Alpha cornered," Leela countered, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "And Vane just threatened his cubs. I know that feeling, Ginny. I know what it makes you want to do. And right now? Fennigan wants to paint the porch red."