Chapter 62

[ 1,143 words ]

They built the veil

62: 62.

They built the veil Liam

Aria is vibrating.

Not visibly—not in a way anyone human would catch—but I feel it like a live wire under my skin.

And I’m not the only one.

Ronan’s pacing.

Kade’s jaw has been locked so tight for the last ten minutes I’m surprised his teeth haven’t cracked.

I lean back against the stone wall of the Citadel corridor, arms crossed, watching the three of them.

She’s upset, my wolf observes, ears flicking.

Yeah, I mutter under my breath.

No kidding.

Because that’s how this works.

The female feels it—deep, sharp, instinctive.

And her mates?

They unravel right along with her.

Aria’s argument back there… it was solid.

More than solid.

It hit where it needed to hit.

I saw it in the room—the hesitation, the flickers of doubt across faces that have been trained not to show anything.

But the Assembly?

They don’t care about being right.

They care about control.

And the packs that side with them?

They get rewarded for it.

Better territory.

Better protection.

Better everything.

No one says it out loud.

But everyone knows.

So this vote?

It’s not just about morality.

It’s about who’s willing to stand on principle… and who’s willing to bend the knee to the Assembly’s pet wolves.

My wolf lets out a low growl.

Weakness.

Or survival, I murmur.

Same difference, sometimes.

Aria starts pacing now, mirroring Ronan without even realizing it.

“This is insane,” she says, dragging a hand through her hair.

“They’re talking about wiping out people based on suspicion. Suspicion.”

Kade steps closer to her.

“You did what you could.”

“That’s not enough,” she snaps.

Her wolf flares.

I feel it.

Heat.

Fire.

Frustration.

Ronan stops pacing instantly, his attention snapping to her like a tether just got yanked.

“It might have planted doubt,” he says carefully.

“Might,” she echoes, spinning to face him.

“That’s not good enough when people are going to die.”

No one answers that.

Because she’s right.

And that’s the problem.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

I glance down.

Felix.

Of course it’s Felix.

I push off the wall.

“I’ll be back.”

Ronan’s eyes flick to me.

He nods once.

I step further down the corridor, far enough that their voices fade, and answer.

“What did you do?” I say by way of greeting.

Felix laughs softly on the other end.

“You wound me.

What makes you think I did anything?”

“Because you only call me sounding like that when you’ve done something reckless.”

“Reckless is such a harsh word,” he replies.

“I prefer… ambitious.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

My wolf perks up more amused than worried.

Trouble.

“Felix.”

“Relax,” he says.

“You’ll like this one.”

“That’s what worries me.”

He chuckles again, completely unfazed.

“Something caught my attention,” he says.

“And you know me—once that happens, there’s nothing I won’t do to find answers.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“It should be.”

“It’s not.”

A pause.

Then—

“I accessed restricted files,” he says.

I go very still.

“What kind of restricted?”

“The kind that would get me very dead if anyone found out.”

My grip tightens on the phone.

“Felix—”

“Before you start,” he cuts in, “no, it can’t be traced back to me.”

“You don’t know that.”

He scoffs.

Actually scoffs.

“Do I look like an amateur to you?”

“Yes,” I say flatly.

“A very confident amateur.”

He laughs again.

“I’m offended.”

“Be offended later. Tell me what you found.”

There’s a shift in his tone then.

Subtle.

Excited.

“I found an archive,” he says.

“On syphers.”

My heart stutters.

My wolf goes completely still.

“What kind of archive?” I ask carefully.

“A detailed one,” Felix says.

“Classification of abilities. Variations. Bloodlines.”

I push off the wall, starting to pace now.

“That’s not all,” he continues.

Of course it isn’t.

“They built the veil.”

I stop.

“What?”

“Syphers,” he repeats.

“They’re the ones who originally created the veil separating shifters and humans.”

My mind races.

“That’s… not possible.”

“It is,” Felix says.

“And it gets better.”

I don’t like the way he says that.

“They’re also the ones who maintain it.”

Silence slams into me.

Everything clicks into place—and falls apart at the same time.

The thinning veil.

The attacks.

The Assembly’s sudden urgency.

My wolf bares his teeth.

They were keeping this from us.

“They know,” I say out loud.

Felix hums.

“Oh, they absolutely know.”

“And they’re still pushing Ashfall,” I mutter.

“That’s the interesting part, isn’t it?”

Interesting.

That’s one word for it.

Dangerous is another.

“Felix,” I say, voice dropping, “I need you to make a copy of everything.”

“Already on it.”

“And then wipe your system.”

A beat.

Then, softer—

“…You think it’s that serious.”

“I think if the Assembly realizes you accessed that,” I say, “you won’t get a second chance.”

My wolf growls low.

I will not let anyone hurt him.

If they come for him we will gut them.

“And don’t tell anyone,” I add.

“Not even you?” he teases lightly.

“Especially not me,” I snap.

“Not over unsecured lines.”

Another pause.

Then—

“…Got it,” he says.

Reluctantly.

“For once,” I add, “try to stay out of trouble.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

I almost smile.

Almost.

“When we get back,” I say, “Ronan and I will go through it with you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Yeah,” I murmur.

“Me too.”

“Try not to start a war without me,” he adds.

“No promises.”

He laughs.

“You owe me one.”

“I know.”

The line clicks dead.

I lower the phone slowly.

My wolf is restless now, pacing hard.

All these years, they were keeping this from the entire shifter race.

Why?

What does it serve to know about the origin of the Vail and why hide it?

They know what syphers are.

What they mean.

What they’re capable of.

And instead of protecting that?

They’re pushing a protocol that could wipe out the very people holding their world together.

It doesn’t make sense.

Unless—

“It’s not about protection,” I whisper.

My wolf’s eyes gleam.

Control.

Exactly.

I drag a hand through my hair.

We’re walking into something bigger than we thought.

And I can’t say a damn word about it.

Not here.

Not with ears everywhere.

I turn and head back toward the others.

Aria’s still pacing.

Ronan’s still tense.

Kade looks like he’s about two seconds away from putting his fist through something.

“Everything good?” Ronan asks as I approach.

“For now,” I say.

It’s the truth.

Just not all of it.

My wolf huffs, not liking to keep secrets from our Alpha any more than I do.

“Felix being Felix,” I add casually.

That earns a faint smirk from Kade.

“Should we be worried?”

“Always,” I say.

Aria stops pacing, looking between us.

Before she can ask anything—

A guard approaches.

“It’s time,” he says.

Of course it is.

My stomach tightens.

We follow him back into the assembly chamber.

The room feels heavier now.

Like everyone knows what’s coming.

Alphas sit straighter.

Enforcers stand more rigid.

The Assembly—

They look exactly the same.

Untouched.

Unaffected.

Aldrin rises once more.

Silence falls instantly.

My wolf presses forward, alert.

“We have concluded the vote,” Aldrin says.

No buildup.

No theatrics this time.

Just the verdict.

I glance at Aria.

Her hands are clenched at her sides.

Ronan stands slightly in front of her.

Kade at her other side.

A wall.

A promise.

Aldrin’s gaze sweeps the room.

“Protocol Ashfall,” he says, “has been approved.”

A ripple moves through the chamber.

Some satisfied.

Some uneasy.

Some completely blank.

My chest tightens.

“Effective immediately,” he continues, “it will be implemented across all North American packs.”

There it is.

Final.

Absolute.

Irreversible.

Aria inhales sharply beside me.

My wolf snarls.

They’re calling for war with the humans.

Because that’s what this is.

They can dress it up however they want—call it protection, survival, necessity.

But I’ve seen enough to know the truth.

This isn’t about saving us.

It’s about tightening their grip before everything slips through their fingers.

I glance at Ronan.

His expression is carved from stone.

But I can feel it.

The anger.

The calculation.

The shift.

Kade’s not much different.

And Aria—

She looks like someone just handed her the weight of the world and told her to carry it.

Then her features change, harden and that spark of fire blazes in her eyes.

Fuck.

This is not good.

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