Chapter 88 A New Generation is Rising
Fennigan didn't wait for the dust to settle on the driveway. He went straight to the secure line in his office and sent the code: Red. Sanctuary. Threat to Lineage.
The response from the Elder Council wasn't a letter. It was a flight plan.
There was no rusted truck or vintage sedan this time. The situation was too volatile for a scenic drive through the mountains. Elder Horne and Elder Thorpe chartered a private jet and were in the air within the hour.
Damon and Elana left the boys to guard the house and sped to the small private airstrip at the base of the valley to meet them.
When the sleek white plane taxied to a halt, the stairs lowered, and the two Elders descended with a speed that belied their age. They didn't carry luggage; they carried the weight of an oncoming war.
As Damon peeled out of the airstrip, heading back toward the mountain, Elana twisted in the passenger seat to face them.
Damon kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as the suburban wound its way up the mountain. In the rearview mirror, he saw Elder Thorpe and Elder Horne exchange a look—a look of pious superiority that grated on his nerves.
"We have been fighting with the High Council for ages on the way they run things," Thorpe said, adjusting his suit jacket with a sniff of disdain. "They have lost their way. They have forgotten the Old Laws."
Elana twisted in the passenger seat, her eyes narrowing. She wasn't going to let them rewrite history that easily.
"Let's not pretend this is a crusade of pure virtue, Thorpe," Elana said sharply, cutting through his posturing. "The Elder Council was almost as bad as the High Council not that long ago. You were ready to condemn Leela too."
Thorpe stiffened, and Horne shifted uncomfortably, his cane thumping against the floorboard.
"That was... a misunderstanding," Horne mumbled, looking out the window.
"It wasn't a misunderstanding," Elana corrected him, her voice low and dangerous. "It was a near-miss. You came to Blackwood ready to brand her a danger. You were ready to lock her away or worse."
She leaned over the center console, looking directly at the two powerful men in the back seat.
"The only reason you changed your tune," Elana reminded them, "is because the Moon Goddess herself came down and set you straight. She spoke through Leela. She told you explicitly that if you touched her Chosen, she would strip the wolf right out of your bodies."
The silence in the car was sudden and heavy.
Thorpe swallowed hard, his hand instinctively going to his chest, as if checking that his inner wolf was still there. He remembered that day vividly—the terrifying, crushing power of the Deity, the threat of being left as nothing but a human, hollow and powerless.
"We remember," Thorpe said quietly, his arrogance deflating instantly. "She made her will... very clear."
"She terrified you," Damon grunted from the driver's seat. "And that's the only reason you stamped those papers."
"We are here now," Horne said, his voice raspy but firm, trying to regain some dignity. "Because we do not wish to see that anger turned upon us again. If Vane touches the girl or her cubs... if he angers the Goddess... the fallout will not just hit the High Council. It will hit all of us."
"Exactly," Elana said, turning back to face the front. "So don't do this for politics, Thorpe. Do this because you want to keep your fur."
Thorpe nodded, looking grim. The High Council was annoying, yes. But the Moon Goddess? She was terrifying. And if Vane was about to start a war with her favorite daughter, the Elders needed to stop him—if only to save their own skins.
Damon tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the suburban climbed higher into the dense timberline. He caught Thorpe’s gaze in the rearview mirror, his expression hard and unforgiving.
"You need to understand the scale of what Vane did," Damon rumbled, his voice filling the cab. "Whisper Wind wasn't just a territory that went bad. It was a High Council trap."
Elder Horne leaned forward, his brows knitting together. "A trap?"
"It was a Drain," Damon spat the word like a curse. "Vane rigged that land. He knew Leela was an Elemental. He knew she would want to help the dying pack, but he didn't think that Fennigan would go in her place. She was just to far along with the twins and thats why they were given the bond they were given, to help each other. The drain was so strong that it almost killed her and those babies before Fennigan could get away from it. If she had gone on her own..."
Elana turned in her seat, her face pale with the memory. "He tried to kill our daughter-in-law, Thorpe. And he didn't care that she was carrying Caspian and Briar. In fact, we think that was the point. He wanted to kill the unborn grandchildren to wipe out the 'anomaly' before it could take its first breath."
"But he didn't succeed," Damon growled, merging the car onto the private access road. "Leela is stronger than his machines. She survived the drain, and the twins survived with her. That’s Vane’s problem. He can't find a loophole to justify the total death of the Whisper Wind territory—that’s on his record. And now, he has living, breathing proof walking around Blackwood that his trap failed."
"So to make up for his mistake," Thorpe mused, his sharp eyes narrowing as he put the pieces together, "he wants Caspian and Briar to disappear."
"Exactly," Damon nodded. "If he takes them into 'custody,' they vanish into some black site lab. He buries the evidence of his attempted murder, and he gets to dissect the Elemental magic he failed to steal."
He paused, glancing at Elana before looking back at the Elders in the mirror. A grim smile touched his lips.
"But Vane is playing a game he’s already lost," Damon revealed, his voice dropping lower. "Because he's so focused on the twins, he doesn't realize he's already outnumbered. There is another one on the way."
Thorpe’s eyebrows shot up. "The Elemental is pregnant again?"
"She is," Damon confirmed with a fierce pride. "Vane doesn't even know about it. He’s fighting a war against two cubs, and he doesn't know a third is already growing."
Thorpe sat back, smoothing his suit jacket, a look of grudging respect crossing his face.
"It sounds like the Blackwood line is steadily growing," Thorpe observed, looking out at the vast territory of the pack. "We heard through the channels that your second son, Jax, and his mate are expecting as well?"
"They are," Elana said softly. "A new generation is rising, Thorpe. Fast."
"Four new heirs in under three years," Horne grunted, tapping his cane approvingly. "That is... significant."
"It's not just significant," Thorpe corrected him. "It's a dynasty. And if Vane thinks he can prune a tree that is growing this fast... he is going to break his axe."