A quiet cough came from the left side of the table. Alpha Silas Holt of the Moon Peak sat three seats down from Kallos. His silver hair was combed neatly back from his lined face, which was framed by a trimmed white beard, and a dark charcoal suit stretched over his broad shoulders. His fingers, knotted with age, tapped once against the table before he spoke.
"The frequency of rogue attacks is spiking," Silas began, his voice tight despite its calm tone. "They have been targeting weaker packs, hitting the ones that simply cannot defend themselves."
Across from him, Alpha Seraphina Vargas of the Thorn Hills bristled in agitation. A tailored black blazer hugged her lean frame, its sharp lines accentuating the predatory elegance in her posture.
"Packs in my territory have been picked off one by one," she growled, slamming her hand onto the table hard enough to rattle the glasses. "They strike at night, overwhelm the guards, and vanish before reinforcements arrive. My people are dying, and their homes are being destroyed."
Dewan leaned forward slowly, eyes clouded with exhaustion. "They aren't just scavenging anymore. They're raiding. Three of my peripheral outposts were hit last week. They did not just take food or supplies, they took lives and left without a trace. The Moon Howlers are being bled dry."
"The Grim Claws have seen the same," Caelum added quietly. His pale fingers remained clasped, but tension tightened his shoulders. "These rogues are not acting like the feral outcasts we are used to. They are moving with tactical precision. They know exactly when our patrols shift and where our weakest points are."
Vexton let out a harsh, mocking bark of laughter. "Maybe if your packs weren't so pathetic, a few strays wouldn't be able to waltz in and tear your throats out. Strength attracts respect. Weakness attracts teeth. Or should I say fangs."
"It's more than that, Vexton," Caelum countered, ignoring the insult with practiced patience. "There is a level of coordination here that a disorganized group of rogues shouldn't possess. It feels like..."
"It feels like you're making excuses for being a failure of a leader." Vexton interrupted him with a loud, wet snort. "Own your failures instead of inventing conspiracies."
Around the table, the atmosphere curdled. Silas's eyes narrowed into slits of icy disdain, and Seraphina's lip curled back to reveal the edge of a canine, her hand twitching as if she were seconds away from lunging across the wood. The collective disgust was palpable.
"Act your age for once," Kallos snapped, his silver eyes flashing with sudden coldness. "If you don't know how to behave like the old man you are, perhaps take out your phone and scroll like your son." He nodded toward Axel, who remained completely absorbed in his device. "Let people with actual sense have a proper discussion."
Dewan pressed his lips together, fighting a losing battle against a grin. The sight of Kallos publicly dismantling Vexton sent a sharp thrill through him. It felt like a personal win, revenge by proxy for every insult Dewan had swallowed over the years.
Vexton's face darkened to a dangerous shade of red, but Kallos merely looked away, dismissing him as though he were no longer worth the effort. He turned his full attention to Caelum.
"Tell us exactly what you mean by that, Caelum."
Caelum drew a steady breath. "Not only are they too organized," he said, his expression grim, "they're using high-level weapons. Precision rifles. Silver-laced ammunition. Tactical gear designed specifically for supernatural combat."
His gaze swept the table before settling back on Kallos.
"There is no way rogues could get their hands on equipment like that without outside help."
Kallos's eyes narrowed, the faintest shift in his posture betraying sharpened interest. "You mean someone is aiding them?"
"I am certain of it," Caelum replied without hesitation. "Rogues don't coordinate like this, and they certainly have no access to the kind of weapons they're using. Someone is funding them."
"He's right," Dewan added, his voice low and haunted. "When I visited the last site they hit, I saw blast marks from military-grade incendiaries. Silver-tipped rounds embedded in the buildings. Precision cuts on reinforced gates. We also found tactical traps and remotely triggered devices left behind at the scene of the last raid."
He paused, looking directly at Kallos. "I think they're working with the Hunters."
The room erupted into a low, frantic murmur of horror. Kallos leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable as his fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic pattern on the polished wood. The Hunters had cast a long shadow over their kind for centuries. They were human zealots who despised every supernatural being to their core. Some hunted for the thrill of the kill, while others believed they were delivering a divine favor to humanity, convinced that no being should wield power beyond that of man. To them, the existence of supernatural creatures was a cosmic injustice that demanded correction. The idea of werewolves, even rogues, collaborating with those who sought their total extinction was the ultimate betrayal.
Axel finally looked up from his phone, his icy blue eye narrowing as he scanned the room. "Why not just find their nests and purge them? I mean..."
"This is none of our concern!" Vexton barked, cutting his son off. "It is not our fault that some packs are too weak to protect their own homes. Sit this one out, son, and let them sort it out themselves."
The surrounding Alphas shifted in their seats, exchanging looks of pure incredulity. Caelum shook his head, his expression one of profound weariness. The reason for this council was to ensure the survival of their species through unity; if Vexton couldn't grasp that the fall of one pack was a crack in the foundation of all, he shouldn't be here in the first place.
Axel gave his father a steady, measured, and unreadable look.
"Are you sure you don't want your old man dead, Axel?" Kallos asked lightly. "If you want, I can help you become the Alpha of Vicious Fangs tonight. Just say the word. I would not mind putting your father down for you."
Vexton's hands clamped onto the table until the wood groaned. A low rumble built in his chest. Axel didn't spare Kallos a glance. To him, the hybrid king was nothing more than an annoying hum he had long learned to tune out. Yet his gaze remained fixed on his father, a flicker of genuine thought crossing his face as if he were truly weighing the pros and cons of the offer.
"I can see it in your eye," Kallos continued, his voice a smooth, poisonous purr. "Just say the word and he is dead. I have always wondered what Vexton's blood will taste like. I imagine it's quite bitter."
Vexton surged forward slightly, his teeth bared in a snarl. "Try it, you vile blood-sucking freak! And see how far you get!"
"What do you say, boy?" Kallos asked, a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips.
Axel looked Kallos straight in the eye, his face a mask of cold stone. "No thanks," he said evenly. "Now can we continue with the matter at hand?"
"Fine," Kallos said, shrugging his shoulders. "It's your loss, though." He straightened up, the smirk fading. "If the Hunters have found a way to weaponize our own outcasts against us, then I say we wipe them from the face of the earth, just like Axel suggested. They have been taking us unaware. Let us return the favor. We will drag them out of whatever holes they're hiding in and burn them out."
The Alphas nodded in grim agreement, the decision made.
Hours later, the meeting dissolved, chairs scraping softly as the Alphas began to filter out into the hallway. Kallos leaned forward one last time, his gaze fixed on the top of Axel's head as the young man had already returned to his scrolling.
"Are you sure you aren't tired of waiting, Axel?"
Axel did not look up.
"Kallos," Caelum snapped, fatigue sharpening his tone. "Please stop it."
Kallos raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say, Caelum. Just trying to be a friendly neighborhood hero."
Caelum shook his head and tapped Dewan on the arm. Dewan lingered a moment longer, clearly reluctant to leave before a killing blow was struck. He sighed and allowed himself to be guided toward the exit. Kallos rose, pausing for a moment as he looked at Vexton, who stood like a statue of suppressed rage.
"The offer stands, Axel," Kallos called out. "Anytime you need it, just give me a call."
Vexton's jaw tightened visibly.
"Just ignore him, Father," Axel said, finally standing and pocketing his phone.
Kallos chuckled and began to saunter toward the door. At the threshold, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder, eyes sharpening.
"And Vexton? I hope this year's Vicious Fangs awakening produces nothing but Ashen wolves. It's a disgrace that a pack led by a man who only knows how to oppress the weak is always gifted with high-class wolves. You don't deserve the power you've been blessed with."
Vexton's face turned a deep, bruised purple. For a pack that took immense pride in its consistent output of high-class wolves, being cursed with the lowest class was the ultimate insult.
As soon as Kallos left the room, Vexton let out a roar of fury. "One day," he hissed. "One day, I will put down that proud, arrogant freak and show him exactly where he belongs."
Axel shook his head slowly, the movement heavy with quiet, weary disappointment. "Let's just go, Father," he said, his voice flat and empty of any hope for the man beside him.