The morning arrived with the weight of a blade waiting to fall. Luna had expected resistance—she had planned for it, built contingencies, prepared for every conceivable countermove. What she hadn't expected was how quickly the old world would show its teeth."Three territories have refused compliance."The report landed sharp and early, cutting through the calm she had engineered the night before. No panic in the war room—she had trained them better than that. But no illusion either. The faces around the table were set, waiting for direction.Luna didn't sit this time. She stood at the head of the room, her fingers resting lightly against the polished wood, her silver eyes fixed on the analyst who had spoken. "Names."The analyst hesitated, aware of the weight she was passing. "Ironclaw. Red Hollow. North Vale."Of course. The oldest packs. The ones whose power had been built on the very hierarchies Luna was dismantling. The one
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