Chapter 120 Problem
Chapter 120 Issues
ZEPHYRA POV
It has been four months since m ycoronation.
I am starting to show: a small, firm swell that Evander’s hand instinctively seeks in his sleep, and Naville pretends not to stare at with a mixture of fierce protectiveness and poorly hidden worry.
And the Royal seamstress has quietly begun accommodating in every new piece of clothing.
Left to my husband’s preference, I would be indoors, horizontal, and doing nothing more strenuous than choosing what to eat next.
But the crown, as it turns out, has other ideas.
I stand here now in what I’ve taken to calling the war room: Chosen, decorated and designed by me for what its name implies. War.
It's a separate, heavily fortified building set deep within the ancient forest surrounding the pack estate.
The people I have in here are just my people. The crown as It turns out to be hold many people with contrasting opinions and its walls have ears.
So, I proposed to my husband and he made it is mission to see to its location, building and settings.
He gave me the rein to choose the people
I chose Naville, Ronah, Kade, my fil and of course my husband.
Well, we have few people involved in technical works. Chosen and vetted by my husband.
The moment I step inside, the contrast hits meas always.
Outside: towering pines, the scent of moss and wild earth, the distant howl of sentinels.
Inside: cold, precise technology fused with werewolf tradition.
Dark oak walls carved with lunar runes and howling wolf motifs glow faintly under embedded blue lighting. Massive curved screens dominate one entire wall, displaying a live registry of every registered wolf in our territory: names, pack affiliations, last known locations, bloodlines, and a color-coded flag system for anyone reported missing or at risk.
Holographic maps float above the central obsidian table, pulsing with real-time movement of patrol units. The air hums with low energy: a blend of electricity and something older, more primal dropped by the wolf goddess
At the head of the room stands Lirael, the pack’s foremost keeper of information. Tall, silver-haired, with sharp eyes that miss nothing, she is known simply as “the Oracle” among the warriors. Her fingers move across glowing runes etched into the table, pulling up data streams with the same ease another wolf might draw a blade.
The heavy doors slide open behind me.
My husband enters first, followed by my father-in-law, Ronah, Naville, and Kade- the strategist warrior whose name now carries new weight.
“Close the doors,” my father-in-law says, voice low and grave. The automatic locks engage with a soft click, sealing us inside. Everyone remain standing around the huge round table positioned for strategy.
I take my seat at the head of the table, the swell of my belly brushing the edge. Evander sits to my right, his hand immediately finding my knee beneath the table- a silent anchor.
Lirael doesn’t waste time. She activates the central holomap. Red markers blink across several territories like open wounds.
“We have confirmation,” she begins, her voice crisp but carrying an undercurrent of barely contained fury.
“Zade’s household was only the tip of the rot. What we’re dealing with is a network. A quiet, well-organized system of wolf slavery operating under the guise of ‘rehabilitation centers,’ ‘debt bondage,’ and ‘rogue containment.’”
The words settle into me in a shudder. There are mor people like me out there.
"𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺" My husband reach through the bond and I gulp
Naville leans forward, her fists clenched on the table. “How many?”
“Conservative estimate: at least one hundred and forty wolves unaccounted for in the last six months,” Lirael replies and I exhale loud,my hand 𝘪𝘯𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘓𝘺 rubbing my belly.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴.
“Witches and Omegas mostly. Some young betas. A few strong warriors who refused to bow to certain alphas. They’re being stripped of their names, their bonds, their wolves. Turned into tools.”
A heavy silence falls. I feel my own wolf stir, a low, angry growl building in my chest.
Kade steps forward. He now bigger than at the proving, with sharp features and the calculating gaze of someone who has survived by thinking three moves ahead. I believe he has.
I trust Kade more than I can imagine.
He places a sleek black tablet on the obsidian table.
“I infiltrated the household of Alpha Korran two nights ago,” he says, voice tight.
“Posed as a rogue trader looking to sell information. What I found…” He swallows, jaw flexing.
“It’s worse than we feared.”
He taps the tablet. A video begins to play.The room goes deathly quiet.
On the screen: dimly lit underground chambers carved into rock. Iron collars etched with suppression runes glow faintly around the necks of chained wolves. Men and women: some in partial shift, others fully broken, they move like shadows, hauling crates, cleaning weapons, serving food on their knees.
Their eyes are hollow. Their wolves are definitely muted; I can feel the absence of their spirits even through the recording. One young female tries to resist an order and is immediately hit with a sharp knife. Her pained cry cuts through the speakers.
A collective growl rises from everyone in the room.
Naville shoots to her feet.
“Goddess above…”
Ronah’s hand slams on the table.
“They’re suppressing the bond. Look at their eyes, their wolves are caged. This is an abomination against everything we stand for.”
"𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥" The wolf goddess warning rings again. She promised there's more. A season where the sky stone in me will need to be used. When my high priestess power will need to be used.
Yet I haven't seen it.
I pray every moment it comes before the birth of my twins