Chapter 81

The council chamber devolved a tempest of snarled objections and flared tempers, a cacophony of dissent that clawed at the fringes of my resolve. “You have no right!” someone shouted above the tumult, making me scoff.

But Elroy, magnificent and fierce, responded before I could speak. His voice was a thunderous roar as it filled the room, silencing the council with its raw power. “She is your Luna!”

His eyes were sharp as they looked from person to person, demanding obedience. “Who has more right than her? The only person who can stand against her is me, and she has my full support.”

The room fell into a grudging hush; the air still crackled with resistance, yet beneath it all, I felt a surge of relief. To have Elroy’s unwavering support was a lifeline in the storm. I steadied my breath, refusing to let the giddy swell of emotion cloud my judgment.

Maintaining my composure, I addressed the council with an icy calm. “If the police force won’t report on these issues, someone has to. That’s why we didn’t stop Ines.”

“But a Lunaris-wide broadcast?” one man asked tentatively. “Why not bring her in front of us directly?” Elroy scoffed.

“So she could be dismissed again?” he asked scathingly. “You’d find ways to convince yourselves that she didn’t try hard enough, speak loud enough, that she wouldn’t have been hurt if she was a better wife. Why should she ever have to go through that again?”

“And don’t try to say it’s not true,” I glared, watching as several people snapped their mouths closed. “You’ve proven over and over again the lengths you’ll go to in order to preserve your stations. Dismissing one tragic death wouldn’t be hard for you.

“But you can’t hide from it when everyone knows, and now everyone knows. All of Lunaris, all of Eclipse, even your own family members know the cost of your arrogance.”

Several people paled, and a part of me took savage joy in that. These people were going to have to defend themselves everywhere they went, even their own kitchen tables. They would not escape this scrutiny.

“In fact, you’ve been so busy speaking over each other that you’ve missed a large portion of the broadcast,” I continued. “Pull out your phones and see what you’ve missed.”

A collective rustle of movement followed as smartphones were retrieved from pockets and purses. I watched as the light from the screens flickered across their faces, illuminating the emotions that played across their faces. Confusion, then disbelief, then horror, then despair.

Just like I’d thought, most of them had no idea the depth of the depravity that happened right under their noses.

“Ines’ son... He was murdered,” one of the councilwomen said aloud, and the few council members who didn’t have their phones with them gasped. “By his own father.”

“For presenting as an Omega,” I continued. “The hatred of Omegas goes so deep in this pack that a man would rather beat his only son to death than have an Omega in his bloodline.”

I let my hand stray to my stomach for the first time since this meeting began. The very idea of it—of carrying a baby, birthing a child, raising a son, just to decide in an instant that he wasn’t worth it? To that man, there was no child there, just a tool to be used and thrown away as he saw fit.

I was proud to say I couldn’t imagine feeling that way about my child.

The words hung heavy in the air, and I felt the weight of their stares, the dawning realization of what had been allowed to fester. This was the stark reality they could no longer ignore.

I watched with a sense of triumph as the councilors grappled with the gruesome reality. The truth, all of it, had finally clawed its way into the light. I stepped forward, my voice steady and my resolve ironclad.

"Look at what our silence has wrought," I said, my words slicing through the stunned silence. "This is what happens when we turn blind eyes to the suffering within our own pack. We have allowed hatred to fester like some open wound, unaddressed and unhealed."

The councilors shifted uncomfortably in their seats, the gravity of the situation settling on them like a shroud. Good.

I pressed on, her eyes blazing with intensity. "This is our pack. Not some strangers or Rogues, pack. And none of you have ever even thought about this.”

A hushed murmur ran through the chamber. I could see the conflict etched on their faces, the dawning acknowledgment that they had failed those they were sworn to protect. Or maybe just the realization that they couldn’t keep getting away with it.

"After all, why think about it when this is the way things have always been? Surely someone would speak up if it was really that bad? Well Ines did, and we let her son bleed out on a bathroom floor.”

Councilors exchanged uneasy glances, their postures stiffening as if bracing against an invisible blow. Some looked away, shame creeping into their expressions.

I wanted to confront them about the fear they instilled in their own families, ask them why their own sons and daughters and husbands and wives never trusted them enough to speak out, demand to know how they could be so ignorant. The accusations simmered under my tongue, but I held it back. If I pushed too far they’d swing into defense, and then we would never get anything done.

The silence in the room was palpable, almost a living entity, as it hung heavily around the assembly of councilors. I stood resolute, my eyes scanning the faces before me and gauging their reactions to the gravity of today’s revelations. I could see the icy chill of realization settling into their hearts, one by one.

Someone gasped, their phone in their hand. “The fire was a cover up!” the councilman reported as the information made its way to the internet.

“He set his own house on fire?” a woman murmured.

“He set his own son on fire?” a man asked, looking sick.

“I remember that fire,” one haunted-looking older man said, “my daughter’s teacher lived next door. She said the mother kept screaming that her son was still in the building, just—just begging.”

“No investigation was ever done,” Elroy announced. “Even though the fire pattern clearly suggests accelerant use, and Tyler’s skull was visibly crushed. It was obvious he was dead before the fire started, obvious he died a violent death, and the coroner still dismissed the case based on the Alpha father’s word.”

I piped in. “How many more times has this happened, for something like this to be handled like routine?”

Then, from the throng, a hesitant voice broke through. "What do you suggest we do, Luna Olivia? Do you have any ideas on how we rectify this?"

I felt a surge of vindication – recognition at last.

I felt my pulse hammer in my veins, but not out of fear, not anymore. There was a sort of thrill to standing on the precipice of change. The cold seeping through my boots from the stone floor matched the steely resolve in my voice.

"It's more than an idea," I said with pride, my words slicing through the tension like a knife through the winter air, "it's a plan. We’re calling it the White Paw Initiative."