Chapter 16 - Raegan
The council meeting dissolves into shouting within ten minutes of my proposal.
“Absolutely not,” Oren declares before slamming his hand on the table hard enough to make the coffee cups jump. “I’m not sending my sister into hostile territory on a reconnaissance mission.”
“With respect, brother,” I reply through gritted teeth, “you’re not sending me anywhere. I’m volunteering for an operation where my skills are needed.”
Wyn stands behind me with his arms crossed, scowling in disapproval. He hasn’t said a word since I presented my analysis, but his silence speaks louder than any argument.
“Your skills?” Dorian raises an eyebrow. “You’re a student, not a field operative.”
“A student with intelligence training and psychic abilities that could save lives out there.” I gesture to the maps spread across the table.
“My academic research identified the infiltration patterns we’re dealing with.
My powers can detect deception and hostile intent in ways your standard reconnaissance can’t. ”
“Powers that are still developing,” Ash interjects from her position beside Oren. “You said yourself they’re not at full strength yet because the mate bond hasn’t fully solidified.”
My cheeks burn at the reminder of why my abilities remain incomplete.
I thought I would peak once Wyn and I slept together, but according to Veva, the bond between Wyn and me requires a deeper emotional connection than what we shared in that armory.
Physical intimacy without genuine trust and love only takes the supernatural connection so far.
Until we move beyond the physical and into true emotional vulnerability, my psychic abilities will remain frustratingly limited.
So, basically, they’re as good as they’re going to get.
“They don’t need to be at full strength to be useful,” I argue. “Even at current levels, I can sense things others can’t. Emotional states, deception, hostile intent—all advantages your conventional teams don’t have.”
“The risk is too great,” Oren states from his position at the head of the table. “We can’t afford to lose assets to unnecessary exposure.”
Assets. Not people, not valuable team members. Assets.
“You mean if something happens to your little sister, your pack won’t respect you,” I snap before I can stop myself.
The room falls silent. Oren’s face remains impassive, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes that means I’ve hit a nerve. Growing up with him taught me to read his micro-reactions, even when he thinks he’s being unreadable.
“That’s enough,” Oren warns, using the alpha tone that usually makes me back down.
Not today.
“Everyone in this room is making decisions about what I can and can’t handle based on what I am to them, not what I’m capable of.
” I stand, bracing my hands on the table.
“Sister. Political asset. Omega to be protected. When do any of you plan to see me as someone who might actually contribute to winning this war?”
“When you stop acting like a reckless child,” Wyn finally speaks, and his voice is cold enough to make me flinch.
Although I shouldn’t be shocked that he’d back my brother. He always has.
I gather my notes and maps. “Fine. Have it your way. Plan your mission with incomplete intelligence and hope for the best.”
I’m almost to the door when I hear Matriarch Lydia’s voice sounding from the interior doorway.
“Wait,” she calls out. “The girl makes valid points.”
Every head turns toward the Llewelyn operative.
“Psychic abilities provide tactical advantages conventional reconnaissance cannot,” she continues, limping closer to the table. “In Llewelyn territory, we use psychics for exactly these purposes. The intelligence they provide has saved countless lives.”
“This isn’t Llewelyn territory,” Dorian counters.
“No, but the enemy tactics are similar to ones we’ve faced before.” The Llewelyn moves to the maps and points to several marked positions. “Thornridge uses infiltration. Standard surveillance will miss the scope of their preparation. You need someone on the inside.”
“You’re suggesting we risk civilian assets based on theoretical advantages?” my brother asks, skepticism clear in his voice.
“We need to use every tool available to us instead of letting outdated protective instincts and gender roles compromise effectiveness. The enemy doesn’t care about your emotional attachments to team members. They care about winning.”
The room erupts in argument again, but this time, I have an ally. Matriarch Lydia catches my eye and nods. The gesture feels like validation after hours of being dismissed by people who should know better.
“My psychic training included tactical applications,” I add, seizing the moment of support. “Threat assessment, emotional manipulation detection, identifying compromised assets. These aren’t theoretical skills; they’re practical tools for exactly this type of operation.”
“Practical tools that could get you killed if you encounter something beyond your current abilities,” Wyn argues. “Your powers aren’t complete yet. What happens when you need them most and they fail you?”
His opposition is ironic, considering my abilities are limited precisely because the emotional connection between us remains surface-level.
“Then I’ll rely on conventional training like everyone else,” I reply. “But I’ll also provide capabilities no one else on this team has.”
“Enough.” Oren’s voice cuts through the growing chaos. “We’ll compromise. Small reconnaissance team, minimal exposure, with both conventional and psychic assets.”
“I’m going,” I state before anyone can object.
“You’re staying here where you’re safe,” Wyn counters without missing a beat.
“Safe and useless. Meanwhile, people die because we didn’t have complete intelligence.”
“Better that than you dying because we took unnecessary risks.”
The possessive edge in his voice makes my wolf bristle with both attraction and irritation. He’s protecting me, yes, but he’s also controlling me in the process. The mate bond sparks between us, carrying his genuine fear for my safety alongside my frustration at being sidelined.
“It’s not your choice to make,” I tell him.
“Like hell it isn’t. You’re my mate.”
The declaration sends shocked silence through the room, and all eyes turn to us.
“Your mate,” I repeat slowly, letting the word carry all my frustration, “not your property. And certainly not your pet omega who needs to be kept locked away while the big, strong alphas handle everything dangerous.”
Oren pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is not the time or place for marital disputes.”
“It’s not a marital dispute. It’s a command decision being influenced by personal feelings instead of tactical necessity.”
My brother draws in a long breath and says, “Fine. You can go. But you will obey the security team that accompanies you.”
I open my mouth to thank him, but Wyn interrupts, stating, “I’m the team leader.”
“No,” I refute before anyone else can speak. “You’re compromised. Your judgment regarding my safety will put the entire team at risk.”
“Then who leads?”
“I will,” Ash volunteers. “I’m a neutral party with relevant experience in psychic-assisted operations.”
The suggestion makes sense from a tactical standpoint, but I can see Wyn’s jaw clench at the thought of me under someone else’s command in a dangerous situation.
“Agreed,” Oren decides before Wyn can object. “Ash leads, Raegan provides psychic reconnaissance, standard team for backup and extraction.”
Victory tastes sweeter than I expected, but it comes with the bitter aftertaste of Wyn’s disapproval seeping into our incomplete bond.
“Mission parameters?” Jay asks, ever practical.
“Intelligence gathering only,” Ash responds. “We identify enemy positions, supply lines, and defensive preparations. No engagement unless absolutely necessary for team survival.”
“Timeline?”
“We leave in two hours. Night operations provide better concealment for both conventional and psychic surveillance.”
The meeting breaks up with assignments and final preparations. As pack leaders file out, I catch Oren’s arm.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies. “Thank me when you and my wife both come home alive.”
The worry in his voice reminds me that beneath the alpha leader lies my big brother, the one who used to check under my bed for monsters when we were children.
“I will come home,” I promise. “And I’ll bring intelligence that helps us win this war.”
Two hours later, we’re gearing up for departure. The reconnaissance team consists of Ash, me, two Llewelyn operatives, Sera and Kira, and Jay and Tobias representing our pack’s conventional assets.
Wyn helps me adjust the tactical vest, grumbling the whole time.
“This is a mistake,” he mutters as he checks the communication equipment.
“Your faith in my abilities is overwhelming.”
“My faith in your abilities isn’t the issue. It’s the hundred things that can go wrong out there that you haven’t trained for.”
His hands pause on the radio clipped to my vest, and I can feel his reluctance to let me go through the incomplete mate bond we share.
“Promise me you’ll listen to Ash. No heroics, no unnecessary risks.”
“I’m not an idiot, Wyn.”
“No, but you’re brave enough to be stupid sometimes.”
Before I can respond to that backhanded compliment, Ash appears with final equipment checks.
“We move in five minutes,” she announces to the assembled team. The primary objective is intelligence gathering on Thornridge positions and supply lines. The secondary objective is identifying infiltration routes for potential sabotage operations.”
“Rules of engagement?” Sera asks.
“Avoid engagement unless absolutely necessary. This is reconnaissance, not assault. We get in, get intelligence, get out.”
“What about compromised team members?” Dora adds.
“We extract everyone or no one,” Ash states flatly. “No one gets left behind.”