Chapter 27 The Summit Invitation
Sera's POV
The letter arrives sealed with the official mark of the National Council, the gold emblem pressed into dark wax that looks like dried blood. Kade opens it in his private quarters with me standing beside him, and I watch his expression shift as he reads.
"They’ve changed their method. They're calling a summit first," he says quietly, his eyes scanning the formal script. "All major pack alphas, representatives from every territory, council members from all five regions. They're calling it a discussion forum about threats to pack stability. They're being diplomatic about it, but this is the formal launch."
"The purge," I say. It's not a question.
"Yes," Kade confirms. He sets the letter down carefully on his desk. "They're going to present it as policy, going to make it official, going to get formal agreement from the alphas before they begin executions. They want legitimacy. They want to be able to say that the packs voted for this, that it wasn't just a council decision."
I read the letter myself. The language is careful, almost gentle. There's no mention of execution or genocide. Instead, there are phrases like "management of hybrid populations" and "protection of pack integrity" and "discussion of biological threats." It's bureaucratic language, the kind that hides atrocity under administrative procedure.
"When?" I ask.
"Three weeks," Kade says. "The summit is scheduled for three weeks from today. They're inviting representatives from every significant pack to attend."
I feel something shift inside me. Three weeks. In three weeks, the councils will formally propose genocide in front of all the alphas. In three weeks, they'll try to get official sanction for what they're planning to do to us.
"We could hide," I say, even though I don't believe it. "We could disappear, scatter the hybrids, split up the compound."
"We could," Kade agrees. "And they'd hunt us for the rest of our lives. We'd spend forever running, forever hiding, forever teaching hybrids that they should be ashamed of what they are. We'd be accepting the councils' judgment as truth."
He stands, moves to the window that overlooks the compound. Warriors are training in the courtyard below. Hybrids and pack members working together, learning each other's strength. Kira is directing them, her voice carrying across the stone.
"Or we could do something different," Kade continues. "We could go to the summit. We could take you, make you visible, stand in front of the councils and demand they justify genocide to the faces of the people they want to kill."
"That's insane," I say. But I can already see where he's going with this. I can already feel the logic of it settling over me like a weight.
"Probably," Kade agrees. "But insane is sometimes the only move left when everything else has failed. Right now, hybrids are abstract. They're a theoretical problem, something the councils can discuss in clinical terms. If you stand in front of the alphas, if you tell them your story, if you make hybrids real instead of abstract, the political equation changes."
"They'll try to kill me," I say.
"They might," Kade agrees. "But there will be witnesses. There will be alphas watching. There will be warriors present who have to decide whether they're willing to execute someone who's stood in front of them and asked them to listen."
I sit on the edge of his bed, trying to process what he's proposing. It's the most dangerous thing he's suggested yet. It's also the most logical.
"We need to talk to the council," I say finally. "They need to choose whether to support this."
"I know," Kade says. "But Sera, I need you to understand something first. If we do this, there's no going back. You'll be known to every alpha in the territories. Every council member will know your face. You'll be a target forever."
"I'm already a target," I say. And it's true. Being hybrid in a world that's decided hybrids should die makes me a target no matter what I do.
That evening, Kade calls a full council meeting. Everyone who's been part of the leadership since the beginning is there. Kira, Mara, Liam, Gaius, and the representatives from the hybrid community who've become essential to our planning. The room is tense before anyone even speaks.
Kade lays out the plan simply. We attend the summit. We bring Sera as our representative. We demand that the councils explain their position to her face. We make it political instead of abstract. We force the alphas to choose between following council orders and listening to their conscience.
"It's a suicide mission, Kade. A lot of Alphas have been calling for your execution already because of the missions you've carried out. This could be a trap to get you both at once," Gaius says immediately. "We'd be walking directly into their stronghold. We'd be handing them you and Sera on a platform. They'd execute you both immediately."
"They can't," Kade says. "Not at a formal summit with hundreds of witnesses. Not in front of alphas who might question the order. They can execute hybrids in the dark, in hidden locations. They can't execute someone at an official gathering without creating political consequences."
"Political consequences that won't matter when we're all dead," Gaius counters. His voice is sharp, and there's something in it that feels like more than just tactical disagreement.
Kira speaks up. "Gaius, you've been arguing against every aggressive move we've made since the beginning. You wanted to hide. You wanted to scatter. You wanted to accept defeat without fighting. At some point, we have to actually do something."
"There's a difference between doing something and throwing your life away," Gaius says coldly. "Kade, you're letting emotion cloud your judgment. You're in love with this girl, and you're willing to risk everyone in this compound to try to save her. That's not leadership. That's recklessness."
The accusation stings because there's truth in it. I can see the impact it has on Kade, the way his jaw tightens, the way his hands clench. But
he doesn't respond with anger. He responds with clarity.