Chapter 62 The Beta He Can Trust
Grayson:
I didn’t bring Jude into the council chamber.
That was deliberate.
Power announced too loudly invites resistance before it has time to settle. I wanted this one to take root before anyone understood what had changed.
Jude waited in my private strategy room, standing near the window instead of sitting, hands loose at his sides, gaze tracking the movement of the inner courtyard below. He took in everything without touching anything, like a man who knew the value of not leaving traces.
He looked up when I entered.
No bow.
No salute.
Just a nod.
“Hell of a welcome back,” he said.
I closed the door behind me and activated the privacy field. The hum settled into the walls, cutting us off from the rest of the estate.
“You knew it wouldn’t be ceremonial,” I replied.
Jude snorted quietly. “If it were, you wouldn’t have called me.”
I moved to the table and keyed open a holo-display. Layers of reports flared to life: security logs, convoy routes, internal communications, sealed council memos.
Jude’s eyes flicked to them immediately.
“Before anything else,” I said, “there are terms.”
“Good,” he replied. “I was hoping for those.”
I faced him fully.
“You answer to me,” I said. “Not the council. Not the Elders. Not legacy structures or inherited loyalties.”
He didn’t react. Not even a flicker.
“And anything tied to Evie,” I continued, voice steady, “comes through you.”
That made him still.
Not shocked.
Focused.
“You’re isolating the investigation,” he said.
“Yes.”
“People will notice.”
“I want them to.”
Jude considered that. “You’re cutting information flow.”
“I’m cutting contamination.”
He nodded slowly. “That will cost you allies.”
“I don’t want allies,” I said. “I want clarity.”
Jude met my gaze. There was no reverence there. No fear. Just assessment.
“You trust me,” he said.
“I trust that you don’t belong to this city,” I replied. “I trust that you’ve seen me lose before,” I said. “And you didn’t leave.”
“That’s not the same thing,” he said.
“No,” I agreed. “It’s better. I trust you'll have my back.”
He let out a breath through his nose. “You’re asking me to step between you and people who’ve been around since you were a child.”
“I’m asking you to watch them,” I corrected. “Closely.”
“And if I find something you don’t like?”
“Then you bring it to me before you act on it.”
Jude tilted his head. “And if I find something you do like?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
“That,” I said at last, “is when we decide who’s still standing.”
He absorbed that without comment.
“Alright,” Jude said. “I’ll need unrestricted access.”
“You have it.”
“Security feeds. Historical edits. Personnel files.”
“Already cleared.”
“Convoy command authority.”
I paused for a fraction of a second.
Then nodded. “Granted.”
Jude’s eyebrow lifted. “That’s a big one.”
“So was changing her route,” I said.
That ended the discussion.
The ripples started within the hour.
I watched them from the upper gallery overlooking the training grounds. The Warriors moved through drills with the same precision they always had, but the rhythm was off.
Too many glances. Too much awareness of who was watching.
Jude moved among them without uniform markings.
Just another presence.
Just another observer.
He used to do this during training: blend in, listen more than he spoke, let people reveal themselves by assuming they weren’t being watched.
I’d learned a long time ago that when Jude went quiet, something important was about to surface.
That made people nervous.
Reports began cycling back: Old ones. New ones. Re-opened ones.
Minor discrepancies flagged.
Timestamp mismatches.
Authorization codes that technically passed but felt… padded.
Nothing actionable yet. Everything uncomfortable.
Good.
A senior commander approached one of Jude’s assigned analysts and asked why his unit’s reports were being rechecked.
The analyst replied, “New Beta’s directive.”
The commander laughed it off. Too quickly.
By midday, the laughter stopped.
Someone filed a complaint with the council about “overreach.”
It went nowhere.
Someone else requested clarification on reporting chains.
They were told to wait.
A third officer pulled Jude aside in the corridor.
“You’re stepping on history,” he said quietly. “People don’t like that.”
Jude’s response carried just far enough to be overheard.
“Then they should have performed better.”
The officer walked away stiff-backed.
Not everyone reacted with resentment.
A few younger warriors adjusted immediately. Cleaned their logs. Tightened their movements. Relief showed in the way they stopped glancing over their shoulders.
Those were the ones who had nothing to hide.
Late that evening, Jude joined me again.
“Someone’s already testing the perimeter,” he said, dropping into the chair opposite mine. “Low-level interference. Trying to see what I flag.”
“And?”
“They’re careful,” he replied. “Which means they’re practiced.”
“Names?”
“Not yet.”
I nodded. “Good.”
He studied me for a moment. “You’re not angry.”
“No.”
“That worries me more than if you were.”
I allowed myself a thin smile. “It should.”
Jude leaned back. “You know this turns you into the problem, right? From their perspective.”
“I’ve been the problem since I refused to bury her,” I said. “This just formalizes it.”
He hesitated. “You still believe she’s alive.”
Jude didn’t question the belief. He never had. He’d listened to me talk about her long before she became my Luna and Silverbourne tried to burry her name.
“I believe the bond hasn’t broken.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No,” I agreed. “But it’s enough.”
Silence stretched.
Jude broke it. “If this goes the way I think it will… you’ll have to choose between exposure and collapse.”
“I know.”
“And you’re prepared to burn parts of the system you inherited.”
I looked at the city lights beyond the glass.
“I already am.”
He stood. “Alright, Alpha.”
The title didn’t feel ceremonial when he said it. It felt operational.
“I’ll start with the people closest to command,” Jude continued. “Because that’s where permission lives.”
“Exactly,” I said.
He paused at the door. “One more thing.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t choose me because I’m loyal.”
“No,” I said. “I chose you because you won’t be loyal to anyone else.”
Jude nodded once.
When he left, the room felt quieter.
Not empty.
Focused.
Trust had run out in Silverbourne.
So I had chosen someone who understood what came next.
And somewhere in the city, the people who had signed Evie’s fate without thinking, were beginning to realize...
Someone was finally getting closer to the truth...