Chapter 24 #2
Bronc was ice. “You can’t fake that signature, Otero. Archon just confirmed it.”
Otero’s smile was pure shark. “If the Angel King wants war, he can say so directly. But I don’t buy this. Maltraz may be many things, but he’s not a fool. He’d never abduct a wolf in public unless he wanted us to hunt him. And why? For this Lawson girl? I see no motive.”
Archon interjected, voice calm and musical. “The Council has always protected the balance. Maltraz crossed the line when he targeted a mated female in front of humans. I have already erased the memories of every mortal witness, but the stain remains.”
Shasta Tierney still seemed worried. “Can you guarantee that, Archon? There’s no risk of exposure?”
“I guarantee it,” said Archon. “But I will not do so again if the Council does not act.”
She followed up. “We lost a sister to trafficking last year,” her voice flat. “If Maltraz is involved, we want his head. But we also want assurances this isn’t just a wolf turf war.”
“Agreed,” said Rafe, glancing at us. “Iron Valor, I know what you say is the absolute truth, but for those who may doubt; do you swear this is unvarnished? That you haven’t doctored the record or omitted any facts?”
I stood before I could stop myself. My voice didn’t even sound like my own.
“I swear,” I said, “on the mate bond and my Alpha’s name. We didn’t touch a thing. If you want to see the raw files, Wrecker will send you the drive.”
Rafe eyed me, gaze softening just a hair. “Understood, Gunner. Sit.”
I did, only to realize that I’d cracked the corner of the wood of the table. Bronc squeezed my shoulder, and Ms. Pearl silently handed me a new, unbroken mug. The burn finally started to throb, but I ignored it.
Otero wasn’t done. “Assume it’s true. What’s your solution? Last I checked, Maltraz has the ability to burn an entire pack to the ground. You want to risk that?”
Menace shrugged. “We have numbers. And a motive. If we let him get away with this, no wolf is safe. Fuck, no witch or any of us is safe. What happens when he grabs a Luna, or a queen?”
Otero’s smile lasted all of three seconds before the venom leaked through.
“This is all very dramatic,” the Vampire King said, lips barely moving.
“But anyone who knows Iron Valor history will see this for what it is—a desperate attempt to paint Maltraz as the devil. It’s your brand, isn’t it?
” He let the dig hang, then turned to the rest of the Council.
“Does no one find it convenient that the only footage comes from their own systems? That the only so-called witnesses are wolves and their dependents? Please.”
I saw Wrecker’s knuckles go white on the edge of the laptop. Even Bronc’s pulse ticked at his jaw.
Rafe cut in, tone harder than rebar. “Enough, Varic. The footage is clear. The signature is there. Archon himself testified.”
Otero leaned back, steepling his fingers. “Archon is not above bias. His daughter is Iron Valor. He has a stake in this little melodrama.”
A hush fell over the call, and for a moment it was just the faint buzz of a thousand-mile connection, the tick of a grandfather clock somewhere on Rafe’s end. Then Archon spoke, voice calm and absolute.
“I am beyond bias, King Otero. I was present. I examined the site. There is no fabrication here. The only question is whether the Council will stand for what is right, or allow the whims of the undead to sway justice.” His eyes locked on Otero’s, and the screen itself seemed to shiver.
Rafe nodded to the Council Chairwoman, drawing every gaze to his corner of the world. “You heard the testimony. I call for a formal vote.”
The Council Chairwoman agreed. “All in favor of removing Maltraz from the Council, raise your hand.”
Hands went up. The witches, the wolf kings, Kazimir. Even Otero’s own hand twitched, but he left it on the table, staring straight ahead. Archon, of course, did not vote—he just watched, waiting.
“Majority carries,” Rafe said, voice dropping the gavel. “Maltraz is rogue.”
Otero leaned forward, not even hiding the hate in his eyes. “If this goes bad, the next wolf the Council buries will be yours, Rafe. Don’t forget who really runs this continent.”
“You done?” Bronc said, not looking at the camera.
“Quite,” Otero said, pushing his chair back, a sour look on his face.
Then the witches chimed in, their voices weirdly harmonious. “We need to contain the fallout. If Maltraz retaliates, it could spill over into human territory. I propose a task force. Wolves and witches. We’re closest to the human community.”
Menace nodded, eyes darting to Bronc. “We can coordinate. But we don’t do anything until Brie is home.”
The Council Chairwoman agreed. “But there must be a chain of command. Rafe, you take point. Slade and Menace, joint field leads. Witches, please supply support for the pack borders.”
Rafe looked at Bronc, then at me. “Iron Valor?”
Bronc glanced at me, eyebrows raised: Your call.
I didn’t think. I just felt it burning up my throat. “We don’t wait. We hunt. The longer Brie’s out there, the more likely Maltraz kills her—or worse. We take every able body, every resource, and we hit him now.”
A couple of the other screens flickered with muted agreement. Nikki Caufield, the Gloamreach coven leader, actually smiled, tight and small.
Menace was next. “That’s my boy. But we gotta do it right. I’m not having you lose your mate to Maltraz’s games.”
I was about to agree, but then one of the witches piped up, “What about diplomacy? Should we at least attempt to negotiate for the hostage’s release?”
Something in me snapped. I shot out of my chair, sending it crashing into the wall. “Negotiate? With a demon king? He’ll rip her apart the second he hears there’s a chance the Council is considering ruling against him!”
Bronc was already moving, hitting the MUTE button on the laptop and holding up a hand to block the camera’s view. I felt the wolf surge, my teeth snapping, vision tunneling yellow at the edges. I heard myself breathing like I was running a hundred-yard dash.
Arsenal and Big Papa moved fast, creating a wall between me and the screen, just in case I lost it and went full animal in front of every supernatural leader on the Council.
Bronc turned me toward him, speaking in the low tone that cut through any kind of noise.
“Listen. Otero’s playing a part. He wants you to go off, make us look weak, unstable.
But now Maltraz is off the Council, Otero’s alone.
He won’t help Maltraz, not at the cost of his own seat.
He’ll stay out of the fight. That means we can hit Maltraz with everything. Do you understand?”
I forced myself to breathe, to relax my fists, even as the claws wanted to push out. “Yeah. I get it.”
He slapped my shoulder, hard. “Good. Now, get back in your chair, clean up, and let’s finish this.”
I nodded. Ms. Pearl handed me a towel, then wiped the sweat off my brow like I was a little kid. It didn’t even embarrass me, just made the fire settle into something steadier, something I could use.
Bronc unmuted the feed.
“Apologies for the commotion,” he said, sliding back into his seat. “You know how wolves get. Being violently separated from his fated mate is upsetting, as you can understand.”
Menace smiled a little. “Don’t apologize, Bronc. When this very Council tried to separate Savannah from me, I almost burned the whole place down.” He pulled her into a heated kiss. Leaving her breathless. “Remember that, Red?”
She looked right into the camera, the fire of that shitshow still burning in her eyes. “How could I forget?”
Rafe was all business. “Yes, well…we have consensus. The task force is formed. Menace, Bronc, assemble your teams get a solid plan, and move out. Wrecker, coordinate with Archon for surveillance—anything unusual, any spike in demonic activity, report instantly.”
Archon nodded once, but his eyes were on me, gentle and strong. “Brie is alive, Finn. I can feel her. She’s as angry as she is scared. Hold that bond. You are the anchor.”
I tried to push encouragement and confidence through our bond. “Thank you,” I managed.
Rafe closed it out. “If there are any packs or factions willing to stand with us, contact me directly. We will coordinate the assault and ensure no one gets left behind.” His eyes flashed, then softened. “We’re going to bring her home, Gunner.”
I believed him.
The meeting blinked off. The room was silent except for the faint pop of joints as Arsenal cracked his knuckles and Big Papa’s chair scraping across the floor.
I looked up as Harper touched my hand. I hadn’t even realized she was in the room. I caught her gaze and nodded, refusing to put off anything but that we were getting Brie back. “Go get my sister, Finn.”
Wrecker closed his laptop, then looked over at Parker. “Looks like we gotta a fight on our hands, Wren.”
She was quickly packing things into her bag. “Let’s go get that girl, Eli.”
Bronc nodded, eyes shining. “Let’s go get her.”
Arsenal grinned. “So what’s the move, boss?”
Bronc looked at me. “We hunt.”
Doc walked up more raring for a fight than I’d seen him in a while. “I’m sick of this motherfucker. Let’s go take out a demon.”
Archon glided into the room and looked me straight in the face. “I think I’ve got a fix on the demon’s location. Let’s go find your mate and bring her home.”
Every muscle in my body sang with the need to run, to tear across the plains and find her. But for the first time since this started, I felt something else, too—a cold, bright clarity. I wasn’t alone. I had my pack, and for once, the whole damn world at my back.
We’d bring Brie home, or die trying.
Either way, Maltraz was fucked.