Chapter 83 VINCE’S FINAL REVEAL
The hall finally emptied around two in the morning.
Serra departed with her escorts.
Drest went to examine the southern perimeter.
Greywater’s council returned to registration processing.
Even the twelve wolves settled into temporary quarters near the eastern bridge.
Only a few lights remained illuminated near the operations tables.
Rafael remained connected remotely, but now he was quieter, focused on network analysis.
My father had been escorted to a secured cabin near the river, under rotating guard.
Which left me alone with Vince for the first time since the morning.
He stood by the far window, looking out over the crossing below.
Jacket off.
Sleeves rolled up.
The posture of a man still holding command even in his exhaustion.
I perched on the edge of the long table without speaking.
For a while, neither of us uttered a word.
The silence between us had evolved recently.
Less hostile.
More menacing.
Vince finally broke the quiet.
“You should sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“I know.”
I turned my attention to him.
“You’ve barely spoken since the map updates.”
“That’s because I’m thinking.”
“About rollback?”
“About you.”
That fully caught my interest.
His gaze remained fixed on the dark river outside.
“When this commenced,” he said, “I believed the problem was delaying war long enough to solidify the registrar line into stable authority.”
I leaned back slightly.
“You already acknowledged that.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you indicating now?”
His jaw tightened before he answered.
“I was mistaken about the nature of survival.”
The candor in his statement caught me off guard.
Vince rarely spoke with uncertainty.
Even his confessions usually sounded composed.
This was different.
“The western packs are illustrating your point,” I said quietly.
“No. They’re illustrating both our points.”
He turned then, tired eyes showing no armor tonight.
“Some wolves will always opt for hierarchy,” he noted. “Especially when they’re scared. Your correction didn’t eliminate that instinct.”
“I never anticipated it would.”
“But imposing negotiation on wolves accustomed only to dominance…” He shook his head slightly. “It fosters instability. Some territories won’t withstand the transition.”
“I know.”
“And yet,” he continued, “I still think you were right to pursue this.”
The words hung heavily between us.
Because they had a cost for him.
I recognized that now.
Vincenzo DeLuca had spent his entire life mastering systems centered on authority: strength, command, control.
And now he stood in a world where those very things no longer ensured permanence.
“You despise this,” I remarked softly.
A faint, rough smile touched his lips briefly.
“I despise the uncertainty.”
“That's the same thing.”
“No.” He looked directly at me. “Not with you.”
That silence returned.
Tighter this time.
Closer.
“I spent weeks attempting to manage you,” he confessed. “Then months trying to safeguard you. Somewhere in between, I lost sight of the fact that you were becoming something I couldn’t restrain.”
“You couldn’t restrain me before.”
“I realize that now as well.”
I looked away first.
The exhaustion from recent days weighed heavily on me.
“So what happens when the transition window closes?” I asked.
“Operationally?”
“Personally.”
That made him pause entirely.
Finally, he answered carefully.
“I don’t know.”
At least it was honest.
I absently rubbed at the fading blood-mark scar near my wrist.
Vince immediately noticed.
His eyes followed the movement.
“Is the bond still painful?” he inquired.
“Sometimes.”
Guilt flashed across his face quickly enough that most would have missed it.
I didn’t.
“You regret it,” I said quietly.
“I regret that you had no options.”
Not denial.
Not justification.
Just truth.
Something inside my chest tightened painfully.
Because I believed him.
And that belief was developing into its own kind of risk.
Outside, wolves crossed the bridge carrying supplies beneath dim electric lanterns. The corrected world kept moving forward, ready or not.
Vince slowly stepped closer.
Not cornering me.
Allowing me space to retreat if I wished.
I remained where I was.
“There’s something else,” he said.
“What is it?”
“The western coalitions won’t stop at territorial seizures.”
I frowned slightly.
“What are they after?”
His eyes locked onto mine.
“You.”
The word struck hard.
“They believe that if they control the registrar heir during rollback activation, they can force a permanent restoration.”
I froze.
Not because I hadn’t considered it.
But because hearing it vocalized made it real.
“How much time before they advance east?”
“Soon.”
“Can the crossing withstand it?”
“For the moment.”
“For the moment isn’t sufficient.”
“No,” Vince agreed quietly. “It isn’t.”
We stood there in the dim hall as the river flowed beneath us, and the transition clock continued ticking down.
Fifty-seven hours remaining.
And somewhere beyond the mountains, wolves loyal to expired systems were already coming for the woman who had dismantled them.