Chapter 21 Chapter 21
… in, but I recognized one of them—Elder Patricia Morrison, a wolf who'd been friends with my parents.
"Let them in," I said.
They entered cautiously, eyeing Alex's armed guards with obvious discomfort.
"Mia," Patricia said, her expression pained. "I hoped we could speak privately."
"Anything you say to me, you can say in front of my mate and my team," I replied.
She sighed. "Very well. The councils sent us to make an offer. Stop publication of part three,
stop making accusations against council members, and we'll guarantee your safety and support
the investigation into the Alpha King network."
"In exchange for letting corrupt council members walk free?" I asked. "No deal."
"You don't understand the position this puts us in," another representative—a vampire named
Vincent—said. "If you expose council members as complicit, you undermine the entire
governing structure. The supernatural community will descend into chaos."
"The supernatural community is already in chaos," Alex said coldly. "You just didn't notice
because you were comfortable in your positions of power."
"We're trying to maintain order," Patricia said desperately. "If the councils fall, who protects our
kind? Who keeps us hidden from humans? Who enforces our laws?"
"Maybe the councils that replace you will do a better job," I said. "Because the current system is
broken. My parents are dead because they tried to work within it. Hundreds of supernaturals are
dead or traumatized because the councils looked the other way while facilities like Xiang's
operated. You want me to protect that system? No. I'm going to help tear it down."
Vincent's eyes flashed red. "You're making powerful enemies."
"I already have powerful enemies," I said. "At least now I'm choosing them instead of letting
them choose me."
Patricia looked at me with something like grief. "Your parents would have wanted you to work
within the system, not destroy it."
That hit harder than I expected. For a moment, doubt crept in. Would my parents approve of
what I was doing?
Then I remembered their bodies. The blood. The way the system they'd trusted had failed to
protect them.
"My parents are dead because the system failed them," I said quietly. "I won't make the same
mistake."
The representatives left without another word.
Lucy published part three that evening.
The fallout was immediate and catastrophic. Two council members resigned within hours. A
third denied everything and called for my arrest. The North American Supernatural Council
splintered into factions—reformers who supported investigation and traditionalists who wanted
to maintain the status quo at any cost.
"You've started a revolution," Elena said during our nightly call. She sounded awed and terrified
in equal measure. "People are taking to the streets. There was a protest outside the council
headquarters today—hundreds of young supernaturals demanding accountability."
"Are they safe?" I asked immediately.
"So far," she said. "But tensions are high. There's talk of some traditional packs breaking away
entirely, forming their own governing bodies. The community is fracturing."
I looked at Alex, at Lucy, at Dave—the team that had helped me get this far.
"Is this what we wanted?" I asked. "Community-wide division?"
"We wanted truth," Lucy said. "Division is what happens when truth challenges power. The
question is whether the community can rebuild into something better or whether it just breaks
apart."
"That's not up to us," Alex said. "We did our part. We exposed the corruption. What happens
next is up to them."
But I wasn't sure I believed that. We'd started this. We couldn't just walk away from the
consequences.
On day seven, everything changed again.
Dave burst into the living room where we were having breakfast, his laptop open and his
expression grim.
"We have a problem," he said. "A big one."
He turned the laptop so we could see. A video was playing—poor quality, obviously recorded on
a phone, but the content was unmistakable.
Dr. Mitchell, standing in what looked like a new facility, speaking directly to the camera.
"The individual known as Mia Wisely has made serious allegations against my research," she
said calmly. "I'm here to set the record straight. Yes, I conduct research on supernatural biology.
Yes, some of my subjects are involuntary. But this research isn't exploitation—it's evolution.
We're unlocking the potential of supernatural genetics to create a stronger, more powerful
generation."
He gestured to someone off-camera. A young woman stepped into frame—eyes vacant, body
covered in the same kind of marks I'd seen on myself.
"This is Subject Seventeen," Dr. Mitchell continued. "She's a second-generation Primal, created
using techniques pioneered in my facilities. She represents the future of supernatural
advancement."
My blood ran cold.
"Se's claiming she created a Primal," I whispered.
"She's doing more than claiming," Dave said. "She's offering proof. And she's using it to justify
everything—saying the research that created her is too valuable to stop, that people like you
prove the experiments work."
The video continued. Dr. Mitchell outlined her "vision" for controlled supernatural evolution. She
positioned herself not as a villain but as a visionary, someone willing to make hard choices for
the greater good.
"And to those who would shut down this research," she concluded, "I say this: you can't stop
progress. The Alpha King network has facilities in seventeen countries. You've destroyed one
and exposed a few others. But for every facility you find, three more are operating safely. This
work will continue. Evolution cannot be stopped."
The video ended.
We sat in stunned silence.
"Se's declaring war," Alex said finally. "Not just on us, but on the entire reform movement.
She's saying they're too big to fight."
"She's also given us information," Lucy pointed out. "Seventeen countries. That's more than we
knew about."
"And she's admitted to creating artificial Primals," I added. "That's going to terrify the councils.
Primals are supposed to be rare, natural occurrences. If she can create them..."
"She can create an army," Dave finished.
We looked at each other, the weight of what we were facing finally settling in.
This wasn't just about exposing corruption anymore.
This was about preventing a war that could destroy the supernatural community entirely.
And we were right in the center of it.
The video of Dr. Mitchell spread through the supernatural community like wildfire. Within hours, it had been shared on encrypted forums, discussed in pack meetings, and analyzed by every major supernatural news outlet. The councils convened emergency sessions. Younger supernaturals demanded action. Traditionalists called for caution.
And through it all, one message was clear: the war was real, and it was coming whether we were ready or not.
I sat in the safe house living room, watching the social media reactions cascade across multiple screens. Some supernaturals were calling for immediate military action against all seventeen facilities. Others were urging restraint, worried about human discovery. A third group—the smallest but most dangerous—was actually supporting Dr. Mitchell's research as "necessary evolution."
"They're calling you a threat to progress," Elena reported via video call. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes. "There's actually a hashtag trending in supernatural circles: #ProgressOverPersecution. They're positioning the research facilities as pioneers and you as someone trying to hold back advancement."
"That's insane," I said. "She's not advancing anything. She's creating weapons."