Chapter 223 What did Miller Say
Fennigan didn't retreat. He didn't let the crushing sting of his daughter's terrified rejection push him away from his family.
The massive Alpha let out a slow, ragged breath. He slowly lowered his tired body to the floor, right between Leela's knees. He folded his long legs beneath him and gently leaned his broad back against the edge of the cushions, tilting his head back to rest perfectly against the soft swell of Leela’s baby bump.
He closed his exhausted silver eyes, letting the steady, thrumming heartbeat of unborn Zephyr against the back of his neck anchor his fraying sanity. He just needed to be near them. Even if he couldn't take the nightmare away in that exact moment, he would be their physical shield.
For a long, heavy moment, the only sound in the office was the wet, rhythmic sound of the twins sucking their thumbs and the soft, soothing hum Leela vibrated deep in her chest.
Slowly, the frantic, terrified tension began to drain from the toddlers' little bodies. Grounded by the absolute safety of their mother's pulse and the familiar warmth of her skin, the echoing horrors of the bunker began to recede.
Caspian was the first to move. He gave a tiny, wet hiccup, slowly pulling his thumb from his mouth. He looked down past his mother's arm at the massive, soot-stained Alpha sitting quietly on the floor. A second later, Briar mirrored her brother, a soft, exhausted sigh escaping her lips as her thumb popped free.
They didn't say a word. But slowly, two pairs of tiny, chubby hands reached out.
Caspian’s little fingers found the thick, silver-tipped hair at the crown of Fennigan's head, clumsily twisting a dark lock around his tiny finger. Briar leaned forward just a fraction against Leela’s side, her small hand reaching out to grab a handful of hair above his ear, giving it a gentle, familiar tug.
It was a pure, instinctual, and fiercely forgiving gesture. It was the twins' silent way of communicating what their toddler vocabularies simply couldn't. We aren't afraid of you, Dada. They hadn't pulled away because of him; they had just fundamentally needed the absolute, unconditional safety of their mother first to survive the memory. Now that they were anchored, they needed their Alpha right there with them.
Fennigan let out a shaky, overwhelmed breath, the agonizing knot in his chest finally cracking open to let a sliver of light back in. He didn't open his eyes, but a single, hot tear escaped his lashes, soaking silently into the fabric of Leela's shirt. He reached his massive hands up, gently covering their tiny, twisting fingers with his own, silently promising them he would burn the world to ash before he ever let the monsters touch them again.
The heavy, emotionally charged quiet stretched through the office, a temporary, fragile bandage over a bleeding wound.
Elana sat quietly in her wheelchair behind the desk, watching her sons seek refuge in the arms of their mates and children. As a mother, her heart ached to let them stay in that peaceful silence forever. But as the former Luna, the suffocating tension of the unfinished war gnawed at her. The quiet finally got to be too much.
"Fenn... Jax..." Elana asked softly, her voice incredibly gentle but cutting through the stillness. "What did Miller say?"
At the edge of the couch, Jax finally stirred. He let out a long, ragged exhale, lifting his head from the cushion next to Ginny’s hip. He reached up with a massive hand, roughly wiping the tears and soot from his face, forcing the impenetrable Beta mask back into place.
Ginny gave him a soft, understanding smile. Without a word, she carefully lifted tiny, sleeping Iggy from her breast and gently transferred the newborn into Jax's waiting arms. Jax immediately pulled his son flush against his broad chest, burying his nose in the soft, perfect scent of his newborn pup. Ginny shifted closer, her warm fingers continuing to gently mess with the silver-tipped hair at the nape of his neck, anchoring him.
On the floor, Fennigan didn't open his eyes or move his head from Leela’s bump. The toddlers continued to sleepily twist his hair around their fingers.
"There's another sub-level," Fennigan answered, his voice a dark, vibrating rumble that echoed against Leela's knees. "A Vault. Deeper than the lab, completely off the grid with an analog titanium core. The Weaver can't touch it. Miller says he's the only one with the override sequences."
Fennigan’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking violently in his soot-stained cheek. "He wouldn't tell us anything more. He's terrified that if he gives up the location, we'll kill him. And honestly... I might yet."
Elana’s brow furrowed. "A Vault? What could Damon possibly be keeping down there that was worse than the clones?"
Jax closed his eyes, his massive arms tightening protectively around little Iggy. He wanted to cry again. The sheer, overwhelming urge to break down and weep for the innocent lives stolen by his father threatened to drown him. But he took a deep, shuddering breath, drawing strength from the tiny, rhythmic heartbeat of his son, and forced his eyes open.
"Miller didn't say what was in it," Jax said, his voice raw and hollow, scraping out of his chest like crushed glass. "But he told me how Damon hid the slaughterhouse from you, Mom. How he cloaked the dark magic from your elemental spark for thirty years."
Elana froze. Leela’s hand stopped stroking Fennigan’s shoulder.
Jax looked across the room at his mother, the devastating truth burning on his tongue. "The ring, Mom. The heavy silver one he always wore on his right hand. The one he told us was mother-of-pearl."
Elana’s face completely drained of color. Her hands gripped the armrests of her wheelchair as the memory of that smooth, iridescent white stone flashed in her mind. She had held that hand a million times.
"It wasn't shell," Jax choked out, a single, fresh tear escaping to track down his soot-stained cheek. "It was bone. Miller said Vane used the bones of the innocent to cloak his atrocities from the Goddess. Damon didn't get it from the clones because they didn't have souls. Vane gave it to him. Damon walked around for thirty years wearing a piece of bone carved from a true, slaughtered elemental child."
A sickening, horrifying silence violently consumed the room.
Elana looked down at her own hands, her breath catching in her throat in a ragged, horrified gasp as she realized she had been touching the remains of a murdered child for her entire marriage.