Chapter 5
WAR ROOM
DESTINY
I folded the last set and pressed it flat against the others in the duffel, using more force than the fabric needed.
The outfits had taken me three weeks: reinforced seams, expandable panels, and enough give through the torso to survive the partial shift without tearing.
It was good work. I knew it was good work. Not my most stylish, but I hadn’t been in the headspace to design for beauty in a while.
In that moment, all I could think about was Jelisa's hand on his arm, the way someone touches something they once had and still want. Slow. Easy. The confidence of a woman who had not forgotten the territory, even after a year away.
I knew what I had seen and what it meant. I knew Ty, knew the way he had stepped back before he even fully turned to look at me in the doorway. I trusted him. That was not the issue.
The feeling in my stomach wasn’t exactly jealousy. It was the sharp recognition of another Omega’s openness with my mate.
I zipped the duffel.
War room in ten minutes. My mother was in a stone room somewhere and I had a plan to get her. Everything else could wait.
***
The war room smelled of coffee and old paper.
It was the largest interior space in the main compound building — a long, rectangular table that seated sixteen, maps on two walls, and the digital display Darius had installed six months earlier, which the rest of the pack had taken varying amounts of time to trust.
Marcus at the head. Sage to his left, one hand on her belly and the other wrapped around a mug she'd clearly been working on since before anyone else arrived.
Gran in the corner chair — never at the table, always in the room, her presence grounding us as we always needed. Elder Henry and Mama Mara are on either side of her.
I pulled out the chair to Ty's right, sat in it, laid both hands flat on the table, and looked around the room.
His shoulder was close enough that I could feel his warmth without touching. He was already reading the documents, jaw set.
The Monroe pack operated on the principle that taking your seat mattered. Marcus made this clear during my first briefing—two months after the coma, I hesitated at the door. He looked up and said, “Sit down, Destiny.” Not an invitation, but an expectation.
I had sat down. I hadn't hesitated at a door since.
The door opened.
Uncle Nat came in first, broad-shouldered and steady, carrying his new position in his posture, the way some people wore it on their faces. He held an old-school document case, the kind with a combination lock, worn at the corners from months of use.
Everett came in behind him.
He found me before the table, always entering rooms by looking for me first. He crossed to me and briefly rested his hand on my shoulder.
I reached up and covered his hand with mine for one second.
"Hey, Papa Ev," I said.
"Little one." He squeezed once and moved to his seat.
He had become the kind of father I used to imagine existed only in theory until I met him.
Uncle Nat set the case on the table and unlocked it.
"Six months," he said. "Everett and I have been reviewing Vanessa’s records since Marcus authorized access in the fall.
Every detail." He opened the case and laid out organized, color-coded files.
"We reconstructed what Darius built from the digital records, using the paper trail. They confirm each other."
Darius was already moving toward the display, pulling up the digital architecture alongside the physical records. Two systems, built separately, fit together like two halves of the same map.
"The witch," Darius said.
That grabbed the room's full attention.
The briefing went smoothly, with each person working in their lane and trusting others to hold theirs.
Darius followed the digital threads while Uncle Nat tracked the paper trail.
Both paths led to the same conclusion: an Underground Market built on magical infrastructure, with financial links branching in six directions and anchored to a magical signature.
Darius stood at the front of the war room, a folder in one hand and that calm expression he wore when he was about to tell people something they weren't going to like.
"The three prisoners talked."
The room went still.
"They confirmed the message sent to Destiny was a diversion. The address in the text was never a holding place." He tapped the map spread across the table. "The actual location was three miles east of that point, on a different property, with a different security detail and a different objective."
My stomach dropped.
I stared at the map as the realization settled. They never intended for me to find my mother. The photo, the timing, the address—none of it had been about Dana. It had been about me.
Without thinking, I reached under the table for Ty and rested my hand on his knee. A slow breath escaped my chest as the full weight of what almost happened settled over me.
His hand immediately found mine. Warm. Steady. His fingers threaded through mine and squeezed once.
I looked over at him.
"You came back," he said quietly.
No judgment. Not I told you so—just the truth.
And for the first time since the forest, I fully understood how close I had come to not being here at all, how close I was to having to fight my way out of another stone room.
I nodded and looked over at Papa Ev.
He was holding himself together with great care. Every record on this table connected back to the system that had taken Dana, held her, and used her. He had spent six months reading those records.
I don’t know how he managed to do it without falling apart. I suspected the answer was the same reason I hadn't fallen apart at the compound line yesterday: something worth protecting on the other side.
My phone buzzed.
The room felt it before I looked — that specific shift in attention, sensed by people trained to read environmental changes. I looked at the screen.
Unknown number. Same one as yesterday.
I opened it.
The image loaded slowly. Same room — stone walls, a single overhead light. Same chair.
Dana.
Still bound. But this image was different from the first, and it moved through my chest like ice water, settling into a cold, absolute weight at the base of my sternum.
Her lip was split, and bruising along her left cheekbone was still darkening, showing the purple-red hue of an impact from just a few hours earlier. Her head tilted downward and to the right, a posture typical of someone who has been struck and is wary of another blow.
Her eyes were open. She was looking directly at the camera.
I looked at the image for three full seconds, stood up, walked two chairs down the table, and set the phone in front of Everett.
The room went quiet in a different way.
He looked at the screen and said nothing. His jaw tightened. His hands, flat on the table, went completely still. He stared at the image for a long moment, then at me.
His eyes said: yes. Just that, looking at a photograph of a woman bound in a stone room, saying yes with the certainty of a man who would recognize her anywhere.
"It’s her," I said. "Dana. My mother. Redmon has her.” The atmosphere in the room shifted. “I realized it was him after seeing the bruise on her face. The same as the one I had a year ago. He hit her. This is a message—he’ll keep hitting her until I move."
I sat back down. Ty’s hand reached for mine, and I let him hold it.
Marcus leaned forward over the map, studying both locations one last time before looking up at the room.
"We split."
Nobody argued.
Darius nodded once and tapped the second property—the real location.
"Carter, Moss, and I will take the Gamma team to secure the Omega. Quiet entry. Extraction first. Engage only if necessary."
Carter grinned. "Sounds like a good time."
“The goal is not fun,” Darius said, already halfway to a smirk.
“Don’t ruin the moment, brother.” Carter grinned.
Marcus ignored them both. "Ty and I will take the strike team to the location sent to Destiny."
The room fell silent, and we all understood what it meant. It wasn't a rescue site. It was a trap.
"Redmon will be there, and he wants Destiny to be isolated and vulnerable. He expects her to walk in alone."
Ty's expression didn't change, but I felt his hand tighten around mine beneath the table.
"He's not getting her," Ty said quietly.
Something in his voice made even Carter stop smiling.
Marcus nodded once.
"No. He's getting us."
I walked to the map. "Eastern tree line provides cover near the structure.
Two south entry points won't appear on satellite imagery but exist—built with load-bearing walls, offering secondary access at both corners.
" I touched the display. "The north approach is open ground, where he expects me if I'm alone; he'll be watching the north. "
"Medical on site," Sage said. "Ready to move the moment you all have her clear."
"I'll coordinate with the medical team," Gran said from the corner.
The room turned toward her when she spoke—not because she commanded, but because her voice carried a finality that made everything go still.
"She will need more than physical care." A pause that held years of wisdom and understanding. "I will be there."
"Gran—" Marcus started.
"I will be there," she said again. A decision already made, reiterated for anyone who hadn't caught it the first time.
Marcus looked at her, realized she was not going to budge, and nodded. He looked over at Reeves. “Place two Gammas on the medical team.”
Reeves nodded and took out his phone.
Everett had not spoken since I set my phone in front of him.
He spoke. "I want to be on the extraction team." Quiet. Certain. The tone of a man who is not asking.
Marcus looked at him.
"She is my mate," Everett said. Simply. No embellishment.
Marcus held his gaze for a long moment.
"East team," Marcus said. "You're with Darius."
Everett nodded once.
"We move tonight," I said. "He expects me to be emotional, alone, and running." I looked at Marcus. "We give him exactly what he expects, right up until we don't."
I looked at the room.
"He has already underestimated everything in this room. Let's make sure it's the last thing he underestimates."
Marcus looked at his pack. "Tonight," he said.
The room moved.