Chapter 117 Light Before the Storm pt 1
Gideon
The fireball hovered in my hand, heat licked up my forearm in a living coil, hungry and impatient. The magic responded too easily to my temper and swelled brighter as I took aim and heaved it down the field toward the straw training dummy. The orb screamed through the air and detonated on impact, flames devouring straw and wood in an instant. The sharp crack of combustion echoed across the field, followed by the thick, bitter scent of smoke. It suited my mood perfectly.
The intel we’d received yesterday about the trafficking operation sat like a stone between my shoulder blades, heavy and unmoving. Every breath felt like it scraped past that weight. I wanted to act—to rip the rot out by the roots—but sitting still, waiting for the so-called right moment while my people suffered was more difficult than I liked to admit. My magic pulsed restlessly beneath my skin, mirroring the churn in my chest.
Intellectually, I knew we needed to wait. I’d walked through the strategy a dozen times already. We would save so many more people—and reduce casualties—by going in with as much information as we could gather. We needed to know who was involved, how deep the corruption ran, which packs had sold their souls for coin. Missing even one group could mean we’d have to do this all over again later, chasing shadows while lives were lost.
But Goddess, it galled.
Standing here, planning my sister’s ceremony. Discussing flowers and seating and traditions as if there wasn’t something vile slithering through the kingdom’s underbelly. As if people weren’t vanishing in the night. As if everything was fine.
My temper flared, sharp and sudden. Across the field, the charred remains on the post pulsed again, embers reigniting in answer to my mood.
“Something on your mind, son?”
Dad’s voice cut through the crackle of fire. He held out a hand toward the dummy and closed his fist. The flames guttered and died instantly, smoke curling lazily into the sky where fury had burned seconds before.
I glanced behind him. Duncan stood with his core group, all watchful eyes and coiled restraint. Tristan, Elias, and Blake were there too, their attention fixed on me with varying shades of concern and understanding. The women were off at the spa in pack territory as they prepared for Seren’s ceremony tomorrow, a mysterious female ritual lost on me.
The contrast made something twist hard in my chest. I dug my fingers into my hair, yanking at it as frustration clawed its way out of me. “We should be doing something!”
I spun away, boots crunching against packed earth as I paced. I forced in a deep breath before turning back around. The calm I reached for stayed just out of reach, like mist as it slipped through my fingers.
Dad hadn’t moved. He stood there, still and grounded, the very embodiment of serenity I couldn’t seem to touch. Somehow, that only ratcheted my anger higher. My fists clenched before I even registered the motion, nails biting into my palms.
Once again, I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing. In. Out. Slow it down. Curran was conspicuously silent, a heavy presence at the back of my mind—watching, feeling everything I did, but choosing not to intervene. When I opened my eyes, Dad was still waiting.
“We’re just sitting here,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended, “prepping for a celebration while our people are being turned into slaves. While thousands are disappearing without a trace.” The words burned their way out of me. “We should be taking action.”
Duncan shifted like he was about to speak, but Dad lifted a hand, stopping him without looking away from me. “What do you suggest we do, then, Gideon?”
My mind went blank. My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Nothing came—nothing that wasn’t already on the board, that we hadn't already set in motion. There was no miracle solution. No shortcut that wouldn’t cost lives.
Dad nodded slowly, not in triumph, but in shared understanding. “We’re already doing everything we can. We can’t move too soon.” His gaze softened. “I feel our people’s pain just as much as you do, son. But we owe it to them to be as prepared as possible before we move. Otherwise, all we’ll accomplish is chasing the ringleaders to another location—one we may never find.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “Sometimes, the hardest thing is to do nothing at all.”
Duncan spoke then, his tone firm but steady. “We’ve got routes. Locations. Even an idea of which packs are involved. But we need the ringleader. We need to cut the head off the snake for the body to fall. You know that.”
I dragged my hands through my hair again and let out a shout, the sound raw and uncontained. “I know. I know that.” My chest felt too tight, like the pressure might crack something if I didn’t vent it. “But it feels like we’re failing anyway. And I’m sorry, but tomorrow’s ceremony feels…wrong. Like we’re standing up there smiling and telling the world we don’t even care about the people who are suffering.”
“But it doesn’t, Prince Gideon.” Tristan’s voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it. “Tomorrow’s ceremony tells everyone watching that there is hope.”
I stilled, looking at him.
“The missing princess has been returned,” he continued. “The abused orphan in a corrupt pack is becoming a Luna. She’s found her strength. And that means everyone else can, too.”
“Is that how you really see it?” I asked, the edge gone from my voice now, replaced by something fragile.
He nodded. Elias and Blake followed suit without hesitation.
“The people need to see this,” Elias said. “They need the joy. The normalcy. They want to celebrate their new Luna, their princess. It’s a spot of sunshine breaking through the clouds that have settled over the kingdom.”
Duncan crossed his arms, expression softer now. “Besides, Gideon, you haven’t been sitting idle. None of us have. You and Seren have been mastering your magic. You’ve spent the last week learning how to work together—how to combine your powers the way they were meant to be.” He smirked. “Without destroying everything in your vicinity.”
Despite myself, something in my chest eased a fraction. I huffed out a laugh.
“She’s grown stronger,” he continued. “More powerful in her own right. Your bond has grown. Her bond with everyone here has grown. She needed this time.” His gaze flicked briefly toward the pack lands. “We all did.”
Dad’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, as if he were weighing something he hadn’t said yet. Whatever he found there, his expression eased—just slightly.
“Now,” my father said, his voice carrying the quiet authority that had steadied this pack for decades, “get cleaned up. Come join us for a meal.” The shift was subtle but unmistakable: from fury to purpose, from helpless waiting to deliberate motion. “We need to review the safety protocols for tomorrow one last time,” he continued, his eyes moving over Duncan, Tristan, Elias, and Blake in turn. “And I have a proposal for all of you.”
My pulse kicked, sharp and sudden.
“One that may help eliminate some of this frustration.”
The words settled deep, not extinguishing the fire in my chest, but containing it, shaping it into something sharper. Something useful. I nodded once, already turning toward the pack house, magic finally quiet beneath my skin. Whatever Dad had planned, it was enough to keep me from tearing the sky apart while we waited. For now.