Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Rae's house smelled like garlic and rosemary.
It was strange, after everything that had happened, to be doing something as normal as attending a dinner. But Rae had insisted. Family dinner, she'd called it. A chance to regroup. To breathe.
Alexandra had claimed my lap the moment I walked through the door, chattering about her day at preschool and the picture she'd drawn of a purple wolf. She was convinced the wolf was me now. I didn't have the heart to tell her I wasn't purple.
"Lulu, your neck has owies," she announced, pointing at the bite marks still visible above my collar.
"I know, sweetheart. But they don't hurt."
"Did someone bite you?"
"Yes."
"Were they being mean?"
I glanced across the room at Stone, who was watching the exchange with something soft in his eyes. "No. They were being very, very nice."
Alexandra considered this. "Okay. Can I have juice?"
Ash swept her off my lap with a laugh, carrying her toward the kitchen where Luca was finishing dinner. The house was full—Rae's mates moving around each other with the ease of long practice, my own pack scattered through the living room, the twins arguing about something in the corner.
It felt like family.
I hadn't realized how much I needed that until I was sitting in the middle of it.
Professor Tomlinson and Cole arrived late.
I heard the door open, heard voices in the hallway exchanging greetings with Silas. When they both appeared in the living room doorway, their faces were carefully blank.
Something had happened.
"Everyone," Cole said. "We need to talk."
The room went quiet. Ash paused with Alexandra on his hip. The twins stopped their argument mid-sentence. Even Luca emerged from the kitchen, dish towel over his shoulder, brow furrowed with concern.
"What is it?" Rae asked.
"The council moved. Faster than I expected." Cole crossed to stand by the fireplace, positioning himself so everyone could see him. "Enforcers detained Twilson three hours ago."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"Detained," James repeated slowly. "You mean arrested?"
"I mean detained. There's a difference—technically. But yes, he's in custody." Cole's jaw tightened. "They searched his office. Found things."
"What kind of things?" I asked.
Cole looked at me. Through the bond, I felt the weight of what he was about to say. The anger underneath his composure. The grim satisfaction.
"Evidence," he said. "Tying him directly to the feral experiments."
The room erupted.
Everyone spoke at once—questions overlapping, voices rising. Rae held up a hand for silence, but it took three tries before the noise died down.
"Start from the beginning," she said. "Tell us everything."
Cole nodded. Took a breath and looked at Vince who nodded for him to continue.
"After the hearing, the council convened privately. Vince's questions about the historical record—about what happened to the Omegas—apparently struck a nerve with some of the older members. They started asking questions of their own."
"Questions about Twilson?" Neal asked.
"Questions about Emory. About her inner circle. About what really happened thirty years ago." Cole's expression darkened. "Twilson was always positioned as her protégé, but no one knew exactly how deep that connection went. The council decided it was time to find out."
He pulled out his phone, scrolled to something.
"The documents Kane and Kade brought back from Europe—they weren't just about Omegas. There were references to an experimental program. A project designed to..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Enhance certain wolves. Make them stronger. More controllable."
"The feral experiments," Stone said quietly.
"The precursor to them, at least." Cole met Stone's eyes. "The European documents were fragmented, but they mentioned transfer authorizations. Wolves being moved from academies to research facilities. Treatment protocols that didn't match any known medical procedures."
"And they found more in Twilson's office?" Rae's voice was tight.
"Much more."
Cole held up his phone. On the screen was a photograph of a document—official letterhead, signatures at the bottom.
"Transfer authorization forms. Dating back decades. Signed by Twilson." He swiped to the next image. "Treatment notes. Detailed descriptions of procedures performed on wolves at a facility that officially doesn't exist."
"Jesus," Kade breathed.
"There's more." Cole's voice hardened. "Subject numbers. Names that were later redacted. Outcomes recorded in clinical language that makes your skin crawl." He looked at Stone again. "I think we found Stone’s records."
Stone went very still.
I reached for his hand without thinking. Found it clenched into a fist at his side. I wrapped my fingers around it anyway, felt him slowly, gradually unclench.
"He was involved," Stone said. Not a question.
"He was more than involved. He was coordinating transfers.
Selecting subjects." Cole's jaw worked. "According to what the enforcers found, Twilson was one of Emory's primary recruiters.
He identified wolves at Frosthaven—wolves who were 'too strong,' 'too independent,' 'too resistant to authority'—and arranged for them to be transferred to research facilities. "
"Where they were turned into ferals," I said.
"Where they were experimented on. Some became feral. Others..." Cole shook his head. "The records are incomplete. We may never know exactly how many wolves went through that program. Or what happened to all of them."
The room was heavy with silence.
I looked around at the faces of my pack, my family. James's expression was thunderous. Neal looked sick. Cal had gone pale and quiet. Stone was staring at nothing, his hand still wrapped in mine, processing what he'd just learned.
The man who had been questioning my existence, demanding my removal, calling me a threat—he was the one who had helped create the feral crisis in the first place.
"That's why he was so afraid of me," I said slowly. "It wasn't just about Omegas threatening council power. It was about me potentially exposing what he'd done."
"The ferals respond to you," Cole confirmed. "They're calmer around you. More coherent. If they started recovering enough to remember what happened to them—to identify who was responsible—"
"Twilson would be exposed."
"Exactly."
Rae stood abruptly. Walked to the window. Stood there with her arms crossed, staring out at the darkening sky.
"Twenty-five years," she said quietly. "He's been at Frosthaven for twenty-five years. Teaching students. Running the Academy. And the whole time..."
"The whole time he was covering his tracks," Kane finished grimly. "Making sure no one looked too closely. Positioning himself to control the narrative if anyone ever got close to the truth."
"And when an Omega emerged—someone who could actually help the ferals recover—his first instinct was to eliminate the threat." Kade shook his head. "Just like Emory taught him."
"Is it enough?" I asked.
Everyone turned to look at me.
"The evidence," I clarified. "Is it enough to actually hold him? To make sure he can't wriggle out of this?"
Vince nodded. "We think so. The transfer authorizations alone are damning—they're in his handwriting, with his signature. Combined with the treatment notes and the European documents, it paints a clear picture."
"But?"
"But Twilson has allies. People who benefited from Emory's regime and would prefer certain things stay buried." Vince's expression was grim. "This isn't over. He'll fight. He'll try to discredit the evidence, claim it was planted, argue that he was just following orders."
"Following orders to torture wolves into madness?" James's voice was a growl. "That's his defense?"
"I didn't say it was a good defense. I said he'll try."
Luca emerged from the kitchen doorway. "Dinner's ready. But I'm guessing no one's hungry anymore."
"I am," Alexandra announced, squirming in Ash's arms. "I want pasta."
Despite everything—the revelations, the anger, the weight of what we'd just learned—I found myself smiling. Leave it to a three-year-old to cut through the tension.
"Let's eat," Rae said, turning from the window. "We can discuss next steps over dinner. And maybe—" She looked at me. "Maybe we can find something to be grateful for. Twilson is in custody. The truth is coming out. That's more than we had a week ago."
We filed into the dining room. The table was set for a crowd—Rae's pack, my pack, too many people for the space but somehow making it work. I ended up squeezed between Stone and James, with Cole across from me and Neal beside Cal.
Luca had outdone himself. Pasta with homemade sauce, fresh bread, a salad that actually looked appetizing. Comfort food for a night when comfort felt impossible.
We ate in relative silence at first. Too much to process. Too many emotions swirling beneath the surface.
"The other ferals," Stone said eventually. "The ones at the Healing Center. Will they..."
"The council is reviewing all feral cases," Vince replied. "I’ve asked for all records to be thoroughly re-examined."
"What does that mean for them?" Cal asked.
"It means more resources. More research into reversal techniques. And..." Vince looked at me. "More involvement from Lumi, if she's willing."
"Of course I'm willing."
"It won't be easy. Some of those wolves may have been in feral states for decades. The damage might be too extensive to repair."
"But some might recover," I said. "Like Gray. Like Ben. If there's even a chance..."
"Then we try," Rae finished. "That's what this program was always supposed to be about. Helping wolves who need help the most."
"Before Twilson tried to get it shut down," Kade muttered.
"I think we need to expand." Rae set down her fork. "New protocols. New staff. A genuine focus on recovery instead of control."
"With Lumi at the center," Silas said quietly.
Everyone looked at him. The white wolf had been silent throughout the meal, watching and listening with those knowing eyes.
"The Omega is the key," he continued. "She always was. That's why Emory's people worked so hard to eliminate them—not because they were dangerous, but because they made the council's control mechanisms obsolete."
"What do you mean?" Neal asked.
"Council authority has always rested on the ability to sever bonds. To break connections when wolves become inconvenient." Silas's gaze found mine. "But Omega bonds can't be severed. Wolves who bond to an Omega are beyond the council's reach. Permanently."
I thought about the rings around my mates' eyes. The marks that branded them as mine, as unreachable by any force any council could bring.
I looked around the table. At the five men who were already bound to me. At Rae and her massive pack. At a family that had formed despite everything working against it.
"I'm already responsible for the ferals in some way," I said. "I have been since the first day I walked into the Healing Center and Gray sat down at my feet. Whether there are formal bonds or not, they're mine. I can't abandon them."
"No one's asking you to abandon anyone," James said gently. "We're just trying to understand the scope of what we're dealing with."
"The scope is whatever it needs to be." I met his eyes. "I'm an Omega. Apparently the first one in thirty years. I can help wolves that no one else can help. So that's what I'm going to do."
Stone's hand found mine under the table. Squeezed.
"We'll do it together," he said. "All of us."
The others nodded. One by one, around the table, my pack confirmed their commitment. Not just to me—to the ferals. To the work that needed to be done. To building something better from the wreckage of what Twilson and Emory had created.
"Well," Ash said, breaking the solemn moment with a grin. "I guess dinner parties at our house are going to get a lot more crowded."
Alexandra bounced in her seat. "More friends for Lulu?"
"Something like that, sweetheart."
"Can I help? I'm good at being friends."
I reached over and ruffled her hair. "You're the best at being friends. We're going to need you."
She beamed.
The rest of dinner passed more easily. The heaviest revelations had been shared; now we could breathe. Luca brought out dessert—some kind of chocolate thing that Alexandra declared "the best ever"—and conversation drifted to lighter topics.
But underneath the surface normalcy, I could feel the shift.
Everything was different now.
Twilson was in custody. The evidence was mounting. The council was finally looking at the feral crisis as what it really was—not a natural phenomenon, but a manufactured atrocity.
And at the center of it all was me.
An Omega.
The thing they'd tried so hard to destroy.
"What are you thinking?" Cole asked quietly, leaning across the table while the others were distracted.
"That this is just the beginning."
"It is."
"That there's going to be a lot more fighting before this is over."
"Probably."
"That I'm scared."
He reached across the table. Took my hand.
"Being scared is smart," he said. "It means you understand what's at stake." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "But you're not alone. You never have to do this alone."
"I know."
And I did know. That was the miracle of it—after everything, after years of feeling like an outsider, after weeks of confusion and fear and transformation, I finally knew what it meant to belong.
I had pack.
I had family.
I had five men who wore my bond in their eyes and would stand with me against anything.
Twilson could rot in custody. The council could investigate. The whole world could try to figure out what to do with the first Omega in thirty years.
I wasn't afraid anymore.
I was ready.