Chapter 18 #2
"You're here because you're afraid." Tomlinson's voice was calm. Almost pleasant. "Not of what Miss Orlav might do—of what she already is. Of what her existence means for the council's carefully maintained order."
"That's absurd—"
"Is it?" Tomlinson turned to address the chamber.
"The Headmaster has focused entirely on risk and danger.
But he hasn't mentioned the potential benefits of having an Omega at Frosthaven.
The first confirmed Omega in three decades.
A wolf who can calm ferals, stabilize broken bonds, anchor entire packs. "
"Alleged abilities—"
"Documented abilities. Dr. Neal's data is quite thorough." Tomlinson gestured at the screen, where Neal's charts still glowed. "The question isn't whether Miss Orlav's abilities are real. The question is why the Headmaster is so determined to frame them as threats instead of assets."
Twilson's composure cracked further. "Because Omegas are dangerous. History has shown—History has shown that Omegas were eliminated!"
The word landed like a bomb.
Twilson froze.
"That's an interesting choice of words," Tomlinson continued softly. "Eliminated. Not 'died out.' Not 'disappeared.' Eliminated."
The chamber was dead silent.
"What exactly happened to the Omegas, Headmaster? The council records from that era are remarkably... incomplete. Almost as if someone wanted to erase them from memory."
Twilson's face had gone pale. "That was before my time—"
"But not before your mentor's time. Emory was quite active in council affairs thirty years ago, wasn't she? Around the same time the last Omegas vanished?"
"I don't see what that has to do with—"
"You just said Omegas were eliminated for a reason." Tomlinson's eyes were cold. "What reason, exactly? And who did the eliminating?"
The silence stretched.
I watched Twilson's face cycle through emotions—anger, fear, calculation. He'd said too much. Revealed too much. And now he was scrambling to recover.
"The historical record is clear that Omegas posed significant risks to pack stability," he said finally. "Their influence was considered too great, too uncontrollable—"
"So the council killed them."
The words hung in the air.
"That's not—I didn't say—"
"You said eliminated. You said it was done for a reason.
" Tomlinson stepped closer. "If they were simply dangerous, they would have been contained.
Managed. The way we manage ferals. But they weren't managed, were they?
They were erased. Hunted down and destroyed, along with anyone who might remember what they were. "
Twilson's mask was fully gone now. Underneath was something ugly. Desperate.
"This is ancient history. What matters is the present—"
"The present where you're trying to do the same thing to Miss Orlav?" Tomlinson raised an eyebrow. "Remove her from the program. Relocate the ferals. Launch an investigation. It sounds remarkably like the first steps of another elimination."
"I'm trying to protect this institution—"
"You're trying to protect the your power.
" Tomlinson turned back to the chamber. "Omegas weren't eliminated because they were dangerous.
They were eliminated because they were uncontrollable.
Because their bonds couldn't be severed.
Because wolves who bonded to them became impossible to manipulate. "
He let that sink in.
"The old council's authority rested on the ability to control wolves.
To sever bonds when necessary. To move people around like pieces on a board.
" His eyes found mine briefly before returning to Twilson.
"Omegas threatened that authority. So they were destroyed.
And now, thirty years later, when one finally emerges again, the Headmaster's first instinct is to call an emergency session and demand her removal. "
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?"
The chamber was stirring now. Council members exchanging glances. Whispered conversations spreading through the tiered seating. Twilson's narrative was crumbling, and everyone could see it.
Dr. Derrow stood.
"This session will recess for one hour," she announced. "When we reconvene, I expect civil discourse and evidence-based arguments. Personal attacks and historical speculation will not be tolerated." Her eyes swept the room. "From anyone."
The gavel fell.
People began filing out, but the whispers followed them. I caught fragments as they passed.
"—eliminated, he actually said—"
"—Tomlinson has a point—"
"—the data does show improvement—"
Twilson stood alone in the center of the chamber, his perfect composure in ruins. When his eyes found mine, the mask was completely gone.
He hated me.
Not feared. Hated. With a depth that told me this wasn't just about council politics or institutional safety. This was personal. Whatever Emory had taught him about Omegas, whatever ideology he'd absorbed in his years as her protégé—it ran deep.
He wouldn't stop. This setback would only make him more dangerous.
Cole appeared at my side. "We should go."
"Yeah." I let him guide me toward the exit. "We should."
But at the door, I paused. Looked back.
Twilson was still standing there, watching me leave.
"I almost feel sorry for you," I said. "You spent thirty years making sure no one like me would ever exist again." I let my eyes travel to my mates flanking me—five wolves with rings around their pupils, bonds that couldn't be severed. "And now you have to watch me undo everything you worked for."
His face contorted. I let him see exactly how little it affected me.
"You spent thirty years hunting ghosts. Congratulations—you finally found one." I smiled. It wasn't kind. "And she's not afraid of you."
I turned to leave.
Then stopped.
"And Twilson?" I looked at him over my shoulder. "You fucking lost."