Chapter 10 #2
"The safety of this campus falls under mine." Twilson's voice didn't rise, but something in it sharpened. "Three hundred students, many who don't know what walks among them. All of them are my responsibility."
"I understand your concerns—"
"Do you?" He stepped closer to the desk. "One feral was a risk. A calculated one, managed with care and discretion. But five? One of them an alpha with enough strength to tear through reinforced restraints?" He shook his head slowly. "This isn't a healing center anymore. It's a powder keg."
"The ferals are contained—"
"For now." Twilson's gaze shifted to me. That patient, measuring look I remembered from the courtyard. "And what happens when they're not? When the alpha breaks free? When the students realize what's really in this building?"
I opened my mouth to respond.
Rae held up a hand. Stopped me.
"Headmaster," she said, "I share your concerns. The situation is not what any of us would have chosen. But the ferals are here now, and our responsibility is to manage that reality — not to argue about how we arrived at it."
"Managing this reality is exactly what I'm trying to do." Twilson's composure cracked, just slightly.
Rae stood. Slowly. Deliberately. Meeting Twilson's eyes with a calm that was almost dangerous. "I'm calling an emergency Council session myself."
Twilson went still.
"You're calling—"
"I have that authority. You know I do." Rae's voice was steady. "The Council will be informed of what's happened. They will assess the situation. They will make their judgment. But that judgment will be made with full information — not based on panic or political maneuvering."
Something flickered in Twilson's expression. Anger, maybe.
"You're protecting her," he said quietly. "Your sister."
"I'm protecting everyone. Including you." Rae didn't flinch.
The silence stretched.
Twilson's jaw worked. I could see him calculating — weighing options, assessing risks, doing the political math that had kept him in power for decades.
Finally, he nodded.
"The Council session," he said. "When?"
"I'll send word tonight."
"And the ferals?"
"Remain in isolation until the Council decides otherwise. No contact except medical staff. No exceptions."
Twilson's gaze flickered to me again. That measuring look, sharper now. Like he was filing me away for future reference.
"This isn't over," he said.
"No," Rae agreed. "It isn't."
He left without another word.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Rae sank back into her chair.
For a long moment, she just sat there — eyes closed, fingers pressed to her temples, the weight of what had just happened settling over her like a physical thing.
"Rae," I started.
"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't apologize. Don't explain. I know why you did what you did. I probably would have done the same thing, at your age." She opened her eyes. "That doesn't mean I'm not terrified of what comes next."
"The Council—"
"The Council will do what the Council does. Argue. Debate. Eventually reach a decision that satisfies no one completely." She almost smiled. "That's how these things work. The question is what happens while they're deciding."
"Twilson."
"Yes. Twilson." Rae's expression hardened. "He's not wrong, Lumi. His concerns are legitimate. Three hundred students on this campus, and most of them have no idea what we really are. If even one of those ferals gets loose, if anyone sees something they shouldn't—"
"They won't."
"You can't promise that."
She was right. I couldn't.
The alpha was in isolation, sedated, contained by reinforced walls and heavy locks. But I could feel him through the bond — the rage that even sedation couldn't fully suppress. He wasn't going to stay contained forever. Sooner or later, he'd wake up. Sooner or later, he'd fight.
And I didn't know if I could stop him.
"Go get some rest," Rae said. "Both of you. There's nothing more you can do tonight. Tomorrow, when the Council convenes..." She trailed off. "Tomorrow will be difficult enough, but first come here.”
Pulling me into her arms, Rae breathed deeply. Hugging me tightly even while she probably wanted to strangle me.
I felt James’s hand on my elbow, steadying me when my legs threatened to give out.
At the door, I paused.
"Rae."
She looked up.
"Thank you. For calling the Council yourself. For not letting him—"
"Don't thank me yet." Her voice was tired. "The Council might decide I was wrong to protect you. They might side with Twilson. They might order all five ferals put down and you exiled from shifter territory." She paused. "I've bought you time, Lumi. That's all. What you do with it is up to you."
I nodded. Didn't trust my voice.
James and I left.
We found an empty room on the second floor.
Small. Bare. A bed, a chair, a window looking out over the back of the building. But it had walls. A door that locked. A space where we could exist without being watched.
I sat on the edge of the bed. Let my head fall into my hands.
"Lumi." James sat beside me. His arm came around my shoulders. "Talk to me."
"I don't know what to say."
"Then don't say anything."
I leaned into him. Let his warmth seep into my bones. Through our bond, I felt his steady presence — battered, exhausted, scared, but unbroken.
Outside, the sun climbed higher. The alarm had finally stopped, but the silence it left behind was worse. Pregnant with everything that hadn't been said. Everything that was still coming.
I could feel them all. My mates. My pack.
James, warm and solid beside me.
Cal, grieving and protective in the east wing with his brothers.
Neal, exhausted and terrified somewhere in the building, trying to hold everything together with medical precision.
The alpha, raging in his isolation room, fighting bonds he hadn't chosen.