Chapter 210 Let's go Home and Start a War
The labyrinth of limestone swallowed them, the air growing colder and thinner the deeper they descended into the belly of the mountain. For what felt like hours, Fennigan and Jax navigated the treacherous, winding tunnels, guided only by the faint silver light filtering through cracks in the ceiling and the heavy, sour scent of Magda’s terror.
Then, the oppressive silence of the cavern broke.
It started as a faint, rhythmic scrape echoing off the damp walls ahead. It was the frantic, erratic sound of boots pacing back and forth across loose gravel.
Fennigan held up a hand, stopping Jax in his tracks. They pressed their backs against the cold stone, straining their heightened senses. The acrid stench of Magda's fear was suffocating here, thick enough to taste on the back of their tongues. But as the mountain wind drafted through the tunnel, another scent suddenly hit them.
It was sharp. Bitter. It smelled like crushed almonds and burnt copper—the unmistakable, sickeningly sweet tang of a lethal chemical.
Ahead of them in the dark, a voice trembled. It was Magda, her tone hollow, desperate, and completely resigned.
"A pact is a pact," she whispered into the empty cavern, the words bouncing eerily off the stone.
Immediately, the pacing stopped.
A horrifying, wet gagging sound tore through the tunnel. It was followed by the violent, desperate scraping of fingernails clawing at a throat, the terrible wet hitch of someone violently choking for air.
"Fenn!" Jax hissed, the Beta's protective instincts overriding their stealth.
"Go!" Fennigan roared.
Abandoning all caution, the Alpha and Beta launched themselves forward, sprinting blindly through the dark tunnel. Their heavy boots thundered over the rocky floor, guided by the gruesome sounds of the dying wolf.
Before they could reach the chamber, a heavy, sickening thump echoed through the dark as a body violently hit the solid stone floor.
Fennigan and Jax rounded the final jagged corner, bursting into a small, dead-end cavern.
Magda was sprawled out on the cold, unforgiving ground.
Jax rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside the former pack healer, but he didn't even bother to check for a pulse. It was far too late.
Magda lay rigidly on her back. Her jaw was locked wide open in a silent, agonizing scream, thick white foam bubbling past her lips and spilling down her chin onto the rocks. Her eyes, staring blankly up at the cavern ceiling, were completely hollow and devoid of life. The bitter scent of cyanide—the exact same poison Damon's associates had taken in the bunker—wafted off her skin.
She hadn't just been hiding. She had been waiting for the poison to take effect to ensure she could never be interrogated.
Jax let out a vicious string of curses, slamming his fist down against the cavern floor so hard the stone cracked beneath his knuckles.
Fennigan stood towering over the corpse, his broad chest heaving in the dark. The Alpha's silver eyes were practically glowing with an absolutely lethal, icy fury. Damon's twisted fail-safe hadn't just been the bunker; it had been the people, too. They had made a pact with the devil, and they were all taking his secrets to the grave.
The only living proof of the High Council's involvement, the only witness to the money trail, was dead at their feet.
"Fuck!"
Jax snarled the word, the vicious curse echoing violently off the damp limestone walls. He pushed himself up from the cavern floor, stepping away from Magda’s foaming, lifeless mouth in absolute disgust. He ran both hands roughly over his face, smearing the soot deeper into his skin.
"Now what do we do?" Jax muttered, his voice tight with raw, unfiltered frustration. He kicked a loose rock, sending it skittering into the darkness. "She was the only one left who knew the money trail, Fenn. The only living witness to the High Council's involvement. They all took the coward's way out."
Fennigan didn't move. The Alpha stood towering over the traitor's corpse, his broad chest rising and falling in slow, heavy, predatory breaths. The crushing weight of the dead end, piled on top of the sheer terror of almost losing his children, pushed him right to the absolute edge of his control.
When he finally spoke, his voice was a deep, guttural rumble that vibrated the very stone beneath their boots.
"We go back," Fennigan growled, his silver eyes flashing with a dangerous, unstable light in the dark cave. "And if Miller hasn't talked this 'Weaver' into coming to the packhouse, I am taking every single encrypted file we pulled from that bunker, I am finding out where this hacker lives, and I am going to stand right over top of him and threaten to twist his damn head off his shoulders until he cracks the code."
It wasn't an idle threat. The feral edge in Fennigan's voice made it absolutely clear that the Alpha was more than willing to resort to violence to protect his family.
But Jax knew his brother better than anyone in the world.
The Beta stepped forward, deliberately placing his massive frame right in Fennigan’s line of sight, forcing the Alpha to look away from the dead body. Jax reached out, gripping Fennigan’s shoulder with a firm, grounding strength—exactly the way Fennigan had grounded him out in the hospital hallway just an hour ago.
"Fenn, look at me," Jax commanded softly, his voice steady and calm, acting as the crucial anchor to his Alpha's storm.
Fennigan’s jaw ticked, but his glowing eyes locked onto his brother's.
"You are not a violent person," Jax reminded him fiercely. "You are a protector. You kill when you have to, to defend this pack, but you are not a monster who twists heads off for leverage. Don't let Damon's sickness turn you into something you're not."
Jax squeezed his shoulder, his own expression hardening into unyielding resolve.
"I will get through to the Weaver," Jax promised. "If Miller hasn't been able to convince him, I'll handle it. We will get these files decoded. We will get this all figured out."
Jax let go of Fennigan's shoulder and turned his gaze back toward the mouth of the cave, looking out toward the distant, invisible capital. "And once we have the proof, we start dismantling the High Council. We tear them down brick by brick, just like we had to do before. They've gone way too far this time. They targeted our mother. They targeted our mates. They came for our children."
The feral, chaotic rage in Fennigan's chest slowly receded, replaced by the cold, calculating, and terrifyingly focused mind of a wartime Alpha. He looked down at Magda one last time, feeling absolutely nothing but contempt.
"Leave her for the scavengers," Fennigan said quietly. "Let's go home and start a war."