Chapter 157 Toby and Sarah
Fennigan’s eyes didn't just narrow; they became cold, predatory depths of amber as he absorbed the weight of the man's words. He leaned further into the light, his tactical vest creaking as he rested his forearms on his knees, looming over the broken survivor.
"Explain the lull," Fennigan commanded, his voice a low-frequency rumble that vibrated the metal table. "Tell me how they think they’re going to play me."
The man took a jagged breath, his eyes wide with the memory of the conversations he’d overheard while bleeding out in a raveen in the Capital.
"It’s a psychological siege, Alpha," the man rasped, his voice trembling. "They know you’re a predator. They know if they send a legion, you’ll smell the blood on the wind and turn this mountain into a fortress they can’t breach. So, the order from the High Chancellor himself is to change the scent. They want to replace the smell of iron and threat with the smell of incense and prestige."
He coughed, a spray of red dotting his lip, but he pushed on, desperate to buy his protection with the truth.
"First, they’ll send the apologies. Official documents, signed in gold, blaming 'rogue elements' like Henderson for the 'unfortunate misunderstandings.' They’ll offer reparations—land, resources, even ancient Blackwood artifacts they’ve 'recovered.' They want you to think you’ve won. They want you to look at your Luna and your children and believe the fight is over so you can finally put your armor down."
The man leaned in as far as his shattered ribs would allow, his voice dropping to a terrified hiss.
"Then comes the crown. They aren’t just offering you a seat; they’re going to offer you a newly created position. It’s a title with no real power but immense visibility. They’ll invite you to the Capital for a grand induction. They’ll tell you that the only way to truly protect the 'Special Assets'—your family—is to be the one who writes the laws. They’ll tell you that by joining the Council, you can ensure no one like Vane or Henderson ever breathes your air again."
Fennigan’s lip curled in a lethal snarl. He could see the architecture of the trap now. It was beautiful in its cruelty.
"And the Luna?" Fennigan asked.
"That’s the 'Golden Cage,' Alpha," the survivor whispered. "Part of the induction requires the 'Sovereign Presence.' They’ll insist that for your title to be valid, your mate and heirs must be presented to the High Assembly. They’ll frame it as a celebration of the 'New Era.' But once she’s inside the Capital’s walls—walls lined with suppressors and silver-weave—she’s not a guest anymore. They’ll suggest she stays in the 'Sanctuary Wing' for her own safety. They’ll offer the 'best' Council physicians for her pregnancy. They’ll move so slowly, so politely, that by the time you realize they’re taking her blood samples in the middle of the night, you’ll be bound by a dozen oaths of office that make her the property of the State.
"They think you’re arrogant, Alpha. They think your love for her makes you blind to a gift-wrapped knife. They believe that once they put that Council robe on your shoulders, you’ll be too busy protecting your new 'status' to notice they’re stealing the 'Source' right out from under you."
Fennigan stood up slowly, the sheer power of his presence seeming to suck the oxygen out of the small room. He wasn't just angry; he was enlightened. The Council wasn't coming with fire—they were coming with a velvet noose.
"They want me to be a politician," Fennigan said, a dark, terrifying smirk playing on his lips as he looked at Jax, who was standing in the shadows of the doorway. "They want us to trade our claws for pens."
Jax’s golden eyes flashed with a lethal light. "They’ve clearly forgotten what happens when you try to put a leash on a Blackwood wolf, brother."
The trap is laid, but the Blackwoods now have the map.
In the heart of the kitchen, the air was thick with the comforting scents of simmering broth and toasted coriander. Leela moved with a practiced, rhythmic grace, but her hands were restless as she prepped the mountain mint. She had already asked Vannie twice if Fennigan had gone straight to the interrogation room, her elemental senses vibrating with a low, unsettled hum that no amount of domestic chores could quiet.
"I know he’s down there," Leela murmured, her eyes flicking toward the basement door for the third time. "He had that Alpha look on his face when he disappeared—the one where he shuts the whole world out to deal with a threat. I just wish he’d realize he doesn't have to carry the weight of the Council’s secrets alone."
Vannie paused, resting her wooden spoon against the edge of the iron pot. "He’s an Alpha, Luna. He’ll come up when the air is clear, and not a second before."
Ginny reached out from her chair, her fingers brushing Leela’s arm to ground her. "He’s with Jax and Magda, Leela. Whatever that survivor is telling him, Fenn has the best people by his side. You just focus on being the light he comes back to."
Leela let out a soft sigh, forcing her shoulders to drop. "You’re right. I just hate the silence that follows when he goes into 'tactical mode.'" She shook her head, turning back to Ginny with a warm, sincere smile. "But looking at you, it’s a much-needed distraction. It really is good to see you up and about. Just don't you dare go doing anything too strenuous. Magda will have both our heads if you overdo it."
Vannie barked a laugh of agreement. "She’s right, little bird. You sit, you taste, and you learn the secrets. No heavy lifting until I say so."
Ginny laughed, a bright, clear sound that felt like the final piece of the house’s recovery. "I promise, I’m being a model patient. Besides, I’m far more interested in the gossip than the labor today."
As they spoke, the distant, muffled music of the house drifted in—the sharp, joyful squeals of Caspian and Briar followed by teenage footsteps. Every few seconds, a flash of motion would pass the kitchen doorway as the twins led their "guards" on another frantic chase.
Ginny leaned in closer to Leela, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she watched Sarah dart past, her face flushed and laughing, followed closely by Toby, who was clearly more focused on the way Sarah’s hair caught the light than he was on catching the toddlers.
"Those two," Ginny whispered, nodding toward the blur of teenagers. "They’ll be the next to get together. You watch and see. Toby’s been trailing after her like a lost pup since the last moon-turn."
Leela let out a genuine laugh. "Yeah, I think the whole pack knows what they don't know themselves yet. It’s written all over Toby’s face every time she breathes. He thinks he’s being subtle, but he’s about as subtle as a lightning strike."
"It’s sweet," Ginny murmured, her expression softening. "In the middle of everything... life just keeps moving forward. Love finds a way to grow even when the men are busy guarding the walls."
Leela stirred the herbs into a bowl, nodding. "It has to. That’s what we’re protecting. Not just the borders or the bloodlines, but the right for kids like them to be young and oblivious for as long as possible."