Chapter 59

**Tiberius‘s pov.**

Summoning the Grand Council was rare.

When it happened, it meant something had gone very, very wrong.

I stood at the center of the ancient stone chamber, ringed by the leaders of each supernatural hunter order. Shrouded in long cloaks, their faces shadowed by the massive hoods. The cold in the air was more than just stone—it was judgment.

An  Grand Council elder stepped forward. "Tiberius of the Wolf Hunters. It is under your watch that we now face this disorder. Your people have lost control. The rogue activity is at its highest in centuries."

Another added, his voice lined with age and disdain, "The wolves are no longer afraid. They grow bold. They speak of a weapon—something that gives them power we haven’t seen. Vampires report incursions. The witches fear war. Your failures ripple through the entire balance."

I clenched my jaw. I knew this was coming.

"This isn’t just our region anymore," I said evenly. "This is unprecedented. One of the Alphas—Alaric—is conducting illegal experiments. He's enhancing rogues with stolen blood. There are whispers that he’s using some unique biological element to boost their strength beyond natural limits, though we’ve yet to identify the exact source.""

Murmurs echoed through the hall.

"Convenient," another elder scoffed. "And what of your own failures? Are you truly saying the situation is too complex for you to manage? Or are you simply... distracted?"

I narrowed my gaze.

"Distracted?"

"We’ve heard the whispers," he continued. "You’ve bonded with a mate. A girl you've kept hidden."

I didn’t flinch—but it hit harder than I expected. Their informants were still sharp.

Before I could respond, a smooth voice cut through the room.

Dante. Leader of the Vampire Hunters. And one of the few I respected.

"With all due respect," he drawled, clearly unimpressed with the elders’ theatrics, "maybe instead of blaming Tiberius, you should get your heads out of your dusty scrolls and admit you don’t know what’s happening outside your sanctuaries."

Gasps. Glares.

Dante grinned. "Let’s hear him out. He’s the only one actually dealing with this mess."

I nodded, grateful for the opening.

"Alaric’s plans run deeper than rogue manipulation," I explained. "He’s in alliance with King Maximilian. They intend to use stolen blood to create enhanced warriors—not just for protection. For domination. If they succeed, this balance we’ve fought to maintain will be shattered."

"You speak of political conspiracy," an elder said. "Is this verified?"

"Not yet. But I’ve seen the signs. The rogue behavior. The whispers of territory grabs. Alaric has grown bold. He’s no longer acting alone."

Another elder folded his hands. "Perhaps the issue isn’t Alaric... but your leadership. If this continues, we may be forced to remove you."

I took a step forward, voice firm. "I was born to lead. I’ve fought more threats in one year than some of you have in fifty. If you think there’s someone better—go ahead. Challenge me. But I won’t step aside because you’re afraid of getting your hands dirty."

More murmurs. Some shocked. Some approving.

Dante chuckled. "That’s the Tiberius I know."

A witch hunter leader spoke up. "Enough. We need solutions, not posturing."

Another nodded. "What is your plan, Tiberius?"

I allowed myself a slow smile. "I'm already working on it. And I won’t do it alone. Prince Dorian will be involved."

A collective intake of breath followed.

"Prince Dorian?" one elder barked. "You’re working with him?"

"No, he doesn’t know that yet," I replied, letting a small smirk play at the corner of my lips. "But he will. And when the time comes, he’ll be useful. Because we share an enemy. He’ll help us take Alaric down."

"Can he be trusted?" another asked.

"Of course not," I said plainly. "He’ll want something. But I’ll handle him."

No one spoke for a long time.

Finally, the meeting was called to an end.

Outside, I drew a deep breath of cool evening air, the tension finally releasing from my chest.

"Gods, they’re exhausting," came a voice beside me.

I turned.

Dante.

"Do you think we’ll become like them someday? All cryptic warnings and judgmental stares?"

I smirked. "If I do, put me down."

We laughed, then embraced like brothers.

It had been too long.

We moved to a quiet stone bench off the path.

"So..." Dante said slowly. "The rumors are true? You found your mate?"

I nodded.

His eyes lit up. "That’s incredible. Rare for our kind. Why do you look like you’re not celebrating?"

I looked down. "Because it’s not simple. She’s... Freya."

Dante’s brows shot up. "Wait—the Freya? Lucius’ daughter? The one Alaric’s been hunting?"

"The same."

He let out a low whistle. "Damn, brother. That’s... a shitstorm. I don’t envy you."

"Neither do I."

He clapped my shoulder. "Still, lucky you found her. Even in the mess."

I nodded once.

He was right.

The next morning, after the council disbanded and the hunters began returning to their respective regions, I had a different mission. One that couldn’t wait. I needed to reach Dorian—before it was too late.