Chapter 62: The Heritage Council

The Heritage Council had excellent lawyers.

That was the first problem.

The second was that most of what they did was technically legal.

They funded opinion campaigns.

Sponsored traditional Pack conferences.

Paid influencers.

Published essays arguing that Alpha families were becoming "unstable."

None of that justified arrest.

The classified leak was different.

But Celine's testimony alone wasn't enough to prove leadership ordered it.

So I attended one of their conferences.

Rowan hated the idea.

"They despise you."

"That's why I'm invited."

"They invited you?"

"Publicly."

"Trap."

"Probably."

Rhea wanted to come.

I said yes.

Cassian came because Rhea came.

Tessa came because she wanted free food.

Our delegation was not subtle.

The conference took place at an expensive mountain resort.

The main banner read:

RESTORING THE NATURAL PACK.

I stared at it.

"Do they know Packs live in houses now?"

Tessa whispered, "Don't start."

The keynote speaker was Helena March.

No relation to Helena Voss.

Thankfully.

She was the Heritage Council's chairwoman.

Elegant.

Silver-haired.

Perfect posture.

She spoke about tradition.

Duty.

Stable mate structures.

Then she looked directly at me.

"Modern culture tells young wolves that independence is always strength."

I smiled politely.

"Yet Packs survive through hierarchy."

Applause.

"An Alpha cannot lead if every relationship becomes a negotiation."

More applause.

Rhea whispered, "That's literally leadership."

I elbowed her.

Afterward, Helena March invited me to tea.

Of course.

She studied me across the table.

"You're younger than I expected."

"People keep saying that."

"You've become influential quickly."

"That happens when people try to murder your family."

Her smile tightened.

"I had nothing to do with Moon Crown."

"I didn't say you did."

"You were thinking it."

"Now I am."

She changed direction.

"We don't oppose you personally."

"The coordinated posts about my weight were very respectful."

"I don't control every supporter."

"Convenient."

Her eyes cooled.

"You mistake criticism for persecution."

"No."

I took a sip of tea.

"I know the difference extremely well."

She leaned back.

"Then understand our concern. The Supreme Alpha requires a mate who strengthens the office."

"I strengthen my own office."

"Exactly."

There it was.

"You believe my independence weakens Rowan."

"I believe divided loyalties create divided leadership."

"Lunaris isn't a divided loyalty."

"To you."

Her tone remained calm.

"But what happens when Lunaris interests conflict with Nightvale? With the Council? With your mate?"

"We disagree."

"And if disagreement threatens war?"

"Then maybe it's useful that I can tell him no."

She looked almost pitying.

"You're young."

"So you mentioned."

"One day you'll understand that institutions require sacrifice."

"Whose?"

Silence.

I smiled.

"That's usually the important question."

Before leaving, I noticed a man near the conference hall.

He looked familiar.

Not his face.

His posture.

Military.

He watched Rhea.

Cassian noticed too.

The man disappeared into an elevator.

We followed.

He reached the parking garage.

Cassian caught him before he reached a car.

The man carried no weapon.

But he had photographs.

Rhea.

Me.

Rowan.

Evelyn.

Celine.

And seven unidentified wolves.

Moon Crown survivors.

My blood went cold.

"Who are you?"

He refused to answer.

Security identified him as Victor Hale, private investigator employed by the Heritage Council.

Helena March claimed he had exceeded his instructions.

Again.

Convenient.

Victor's phone contained encrypted messages.

Rhea cracked enough to find one phrase.

Protect the bloodline from damaged bonds.

Evelyn went silent when I showed her.

The seven survivors weren't being watched for politics.

They were targets.

Someone believed Moon Crown's damaged wolves were dangerous to future bloodlines.

Heritage ideology had moved beyond titles and gossip.

We evacuated the survivors to protected locations.

One was missing.

A nineteen-year-old named Mira Sol.

Last seen leaving her apartment two hours earlier.

Rowan mobilized Council security.

I looked at Helena March's conference banner again.

Restoring the natural Pack.

Suddenly, the phrase sounded less like nostalgia.

More like a threat.

That night, we reviewed every Heritage-funded program operating near schools and hospitals. Most were ordinary charities. I refused to shut them down merely because their donors shared Helena March's politics. Instead, we audited consent practices, financial disclosures, and medical partnerships. Rhea said it was frustratingly boring. I told her boring oversight was preferable to dramatic rescue missions. She couldn't argue with that, though she tried. The work continued past midnight, one spreadsheet at a time. Evil rarely announced itself with thunder. Sometimes prevention looked like reading contracts until your eyes hurt.

Later, I wrote the day's events in my private journal. I had learned not to trust memory to preserve uncertainty, because hindsight made every decision look cleaner than it had felt. I recorded what frightened me, what I almost misunderstood, and which people had changed my mind. Leadership was easier to romanticize after the danger passed. I wanted the record to remain honest.

Later, I wrote the day's events in my private journal. I had learned not to trust memory to preserve uncertainty, because hindsight made every decision look cleaner than it had felt. I recorded what frightened me, what I almost misunderstood, and which people had changed my mind. Leadership was easier to romanticize after the danger passed. I wanted the record to remain honest.