35. Annabella #2
“All right,” Ryan said. “Let’s get started.
We all know why we’re here. Kane’s taken over the Council.
He’s working with Simon Webster and his coven to produce and distribute ripple, with the aim of destabilizing Pack structures and Pack communities.
They want to start a war. They want humans to see us as feral animals, to be locked up or put down.
We’ve got intel about spell containment boxes that could change everything in their favor, and now Kane has all the Council resources at his disposal. ”
He looked around the room, his eyes resting on each person. Most lowered their gaze; typical wolf politics, nobody wanting to hold eye contact with an Alpha. Mason, Shya, Derek, Jem, Talia, and Sam were the exceptions.
I didn’t lower mine either. Ryan’s gaze landed on me last. Held for a beat longer than the others. It didn’t feel like a challenge; more of an acknowledgment that I belonged here.
Something behind my ribs warmed.
“So,” Ryan continued. “Options?”
“Oh, shit!”
Everyone turned toward Waylen. His lime-green frames were sliding down his nose unnoticed. “You all need to see this. It’s a live broadcast. Every media channel is running it.”
He hit a key, and the large screen on the wall flickered to life.
Victor Kane stared back at us.
Every conversation died. Every fidget stopped. Even Waylen’s leg quit bouncing.
On screen, he looked different. Polished.
The scar was angled away from the camera—deliberate, probably.
He’d been dressed down in Adarcan, military casual, a man visiting a facility.
Now he wore a suit that probably cost more than all the bribes I’d paid to Lucas, and he’d arranged himself behind a desk with the precision of someone who understood exactly what this image needed to communicate.
“Good evening.” His voice was clipped. Precise.
No warmth, no inflection. Each word measured out like ammunition.
“I am Victor Kane, Director of the Wolf Council. For too long, the Council has been weak and ineffective. It was captured by special interests more concerned with protecting criminals than protecting communities. That failure ends today.”
His tone was matter-of-fact.
“As of fourteen hundred hours, the Wolf Council has enacted Emergency Protocol Seven. This action was necessitated by radical elements who have launched coordinated attacks against Council infrastructure, assassinated Council members, and systematically undermined the safety of both human and supernatural citizens.”
Beside me, Sam went rigid.
“Many have expressed concern. Many have demanded action. I am answering that call.” Kane’s eyes never wavered from the camera.
“Effective immediately, the following measures are in place. All Shifters within Council-designated territories are subject to mandatory curfew between twenty-two hundred and zero-six hundred hours. All non-humans, no matter their age, must register in person their current residence and employment - if they have one - with local Council offices within seventy-two hours.”
My stomach dropped.
All non-humans.
Not just wolves. Not just Shifters. All of us. Every witch, every half-breed, every person with a drop of power in their blood.
Ellie. Mom. All of us.
“This registration is for your protection,” Kane continued. “It will allow us to identify threats and ensure that law-abiding non-humans are not caught up in enforcement actions targeting dangerous individuals.”
Registration. Lists. Names and addresses and what you are, handed to a man who’d called me a subject. Who’d walked into my cell and looked at me the way a butcher looks at livestock.
“These measures are temporary. They are designed to restore order during a period of unprecedented instability. The previous Council leadership failed to police its own. They allowed an infestation of radical elements to take root in our communities. I intend to correct that failure, quickly, decisively, and completely.”
Talia’s hands were rigid on the table, her knuckles bone-white. Bethany Rose hadn’t moved, but every trace of color had drained from her face. I could smell their rising fury from here.
“Some have chosen to flee rather than face accountability for their actions. They call themselves refugees. Victims. Let me be clear. These are not refugees. They are fugitives. They have broken our laws, endangered our communities, and now they expect sanctuary from the consequences of their choices.”
He leaned forward slightly. Just an inch.
“To those individuals—you know who you are. You will be found. The Council’s reach extends further than you imagine. Surrender now, cooperate fully, and you will be handled appropriately under Council law. Continue to run, and you will be classified as enemy combatants.”
Handled. Like we were problems to be solved; threats to be neutralized.
Not people. Never people.
My magic was pushing at my skin now, building in my palms. I curled my fingers into fists and held it in. Barely.
“To the Pack Alphas who may be considering resistance —” His voice didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “I understand your concerns. Truly, I do. You have territories. Families. A way of life you wish to protect. These are natural instincts. Admirable, even, in their own way.”
The condescension was subtle, almost gentle.
“But instinct is not strategy. Sentiment is not strength. And the Alphas who came before you, they understood something that many of you have forgotten. Your kind are not built for democracy. You are not built for committees and votes and endless debate. You are built to follow strength. To recognize a dominant Alpha and fall in line behind him. It is in your very nature.”
My wolf snarled. Sam’s hand found mine.
“The problem,” Kane continued, “is that you have had no leader worth following. The Council was weak. Fractured. A hundred voices pulling in a hundred directions while your communities fell into chaos and your people tore each other apart in the streets. You need one voice. One vision. One Alpha strong enough to restore order.”
He paused. Let the silence stretch.
“I am that Alpha.”
Sam made a sound low in his throat.
“I am the leader this Council should have had from the beginning. And the sooner you accept that—the sooner you stop fighting your own instincts and submit to proper authority—the sooner we can end this unpleasantness and move forward together.”
Submit. A human—a human—telling wolves to submit to him. Claiming to be our Alpha. My wolf wanted to tear through the screen. The witch in me wanted to shatter it. Both sides agreed: this man needed to be stopped.
“To the Shaw family specifically…”
Every Shaw in the room stilled in exactly the same way; the same movement, the same angle, at exactly the same time. Their combined scent flooded the room so fast I tasted it, hot metal with pure animal rage underneath.
“You have been busy. Clever. You may even think that Three Rivers is a place where my rules will not apply. Understand this.” He leaned toward the camera. “I do not forget. I do not forgive. And I do not lose. When the time comes, I will collect on your debts.”
He paused.
“I think you know what that means.”
The screen went black.
No one moved.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Even the twins had gone quiet, as if they sensed the change in the room’s energy. Victoria had crawled into Mai’s lap. Oakley pressed his face against Jase’s neck.
“Okay, we’re fucked,” Mina said flatly from her position near the wall. “Good to know. Great meeting, everyone.”
“We are not fucked,” Ryan said. His voice was calm. “We’re informed. There’s a difference.”
“The difference being?”
“The difference being that Kane just told us his timeline.” Ryan leaned forward. “He’s consolidating. Building. He doesn’t see us as an immediate threat. He sees us as a problem he’ll deal with later.”
His mouth curved. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.
“We’re going to show him he’s wrong.”