Page 52 of Fated Wolf's Redemption

“He’s not a scientist anymore,” I reply. “He’s a conduit.”

Another voice—female, curt, from one of the western packs. “So, what do you propose? We march into every lab and blow it sky high? Hope one of them has the gate hiding in the basement?”

“We infiltrate,” Lucas says. “We’ve identified a probable location in the eastern ridge. Reinforced compound. High activity. Too much power is being drawn to be coincidental.”

“And if we’re wrong?” the Thornfang elder presses.

“Then I’ll die finding out,” Lucas replies, his voice flat.

The room stills. He doesn’t posture. He doesn’t raise his voice. He just promises. And it lands like thunder.

Before anyone can recover, a door creaks open. Max steps inside. He’s thin, face still a little too pale, but he walks on his own. No stagger. No escort. Just a slow, steady stride that brings the room to silence.

I see Kylie standing just inside the doorway. Her hand tightens on the frame as if daring anyone to challenge him.

Max stops in the center of the room. Lucas steps back. I do the same. This is his moment, and we all feel it.

“I was in Cain’s facility,” Max says. “Held for nearly three months. Exposed to something… not natural. Gas that suppresses the wolf. Experiments to track gene expression. Pain, not to kill—but to change.”

The room stays silent.

Max looks around, voice steady. “They’re not just altering us. They’re stripping out what makes us wolves. What makes us pack. They want something new. Something that doesn’t need a bond. Doesn’t need loyalty or law. Just hunger. Just obedience.”

A shiver rides down my spine. Because I’ve seen it now, in Lina’s face. The complete absence of empathy.

Max straightens. “If we let Cain continue, we won’t be defending our homes anymore. We’ll be hunting our own.”

That lands hard. No one speaks for a long moment.

Then Ryder steps forward. “We’re calling for a vote,” he says. “One representative per pack. Choose your stance now.”

A buzz picks up again. Whispers. Debates. Some wolves rise and form smaller circles to vote. Others sit silent, already knowing.

Thornfang’s elder stands, looking directly at Lucas.

“We don’t trust Windriders. We’ve seen too many ‘visions’ turn into wildfire. But if Cain is truly gone rogue—if this Lina is real—then waiting makes us prey.” He nods once. “Thornfang votes to hunt.”

One by one, the others cast their votes. A few abstain. Ironclaw, after a long pause, raises a hand.

“We support the task force. But you’ll do it under the council’s oversight.”

Lucas gives a tight nod. “Agreed.”

Ryder steps forward. “Then it’s done. A joint operation. Lucas and Sophia will lead it. The rest of us will reinforce regional lines, monitor for movement, and be ready if the gate opens.”

There’s no applause. No cheers. Just a thick, collective understanding that this is war. Not the clean kind. The quiet kind. The kind that starts in shadows and doesn’t end until something—or someone—bleeds.

I take a breath. Then another. I look at Lucas. He’s watching me like he always does—steady, unyielding, with that fire behind his eyes. Not long ago, I would’ve run from that fire. Now I think it’s the only thing that might keep me warm when the world finally cracks open.

Max turns and walks out. Ryder follows. Isabella lingers by the door until Lucas gestures for her to go.

The summit disperses like smoke—quick, hot, and leaving behind a sharp scent of things unfinished. Delegates peel off into corners, snapping at each other in low voices. Thornfang leavesfirst, muttering about preparations and “weapons they should’ve been using a long time ago.” Ironclaw lingers. Watching. Always watching.

Ryder, Max, and Isabella disappear toward the south wing. Lucas doesn’t follow. He stays silent beside me as I scoop up the journal and data slate, wrapping the glyph pages in a strip of cloth from my belt pouch. The moment the door closes behind the last delegate, the lodge goes quiet again. Too quiet.

Lucas’s gaze cuts sideways. “You did good in there.”

I laugh once, soft and sharp. “We didn’t get agreement. We got reluctant compliance. And only because Max stood up when he should be in bed.”

---