Alpha VS Omega' Twin VS Twin (A Dark Werewolf Romance) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

POV: Callum Brennan and CrewLocation: Safe House War CouncilTime: Next DayCALLUMWe're gathered in Silas's warehouse. War council. Seven of us planning how to survive impossible odds.Me, Isla, Valentina, Sibyl, Tom, Silas, and Bill Bolter. Representing different factions. Different skills. Different perspectives."We can't win militarily," I begin. "Parliament's got resources, training, numbers. Direct fight is suicide. So we don't fight directly. We fight politically.""Explain," Bill says. He's skeptical. Still deciding if this is worthwhile investment."Parliament wants quiet extermination. Make us disappear. No witnesses. No evidence. No political cost." I lay out Silas's files. "We make it loud. Public. Costly. Force them to either back down or expose themselves."Isla speaks next. "How do we make it public without breaking the Veil? Without exposing all supernatural existence?""Selective exposure. Strain the Veil without breaking it. Get human media attention on 'gang viole

POV: Isla ReidLocation: The RookeriesTime: Same WeekI'm treating a wound when I hear the commotion outside. Shouting. Crying. Someone's in trouble.I step outside the shelter. See crowd gathered around a wolf. Young male. Maybe twenty. He's holding stolen food. Bread, cheese, some fruit. Maybe ten pounds worth.Bill Bolter's there. Angry. "You stole from my supply cache. That's packless code violation. Pay back double or get exiled.""I can't pay back. I don't have money. I was starving." The young wolf's voice is desperate. "I haven't eaten in four days. I just. I needed food.""Then you starve. That's Rookeries. You don't steal from other packless. That's the only rule we have." Bill signals his enforcers. "Take the food back. Beat him. Make sure everyone knows theft has consequences."I intervene. "Wait. He's starving. Four days without food. That's not crime. That's survival.""It's theft. From community resources. Other wolves need that food. He takes it, someone else goes hung

CORMACThe chandeliers drip crystal and old money. Vampire money. The kind that bought Parliament seats and pack territories and wolves like me.I stand in Mordaunt's ballroom wearing a suit that cost more than most packless wolves earn in a year. The irony isn't lost on me. Three months ago I was the heir apparent, untouchable. Now I'm a performing monkey in a waistcoat, smiling for predators who could drain me dry before I finished screaming."Alpha Brennan." A vampire glides over, all grace and ancient power. Lord Castellane, runs half the blood clubs in Mayfair. "What a delightful surprise to see you here."Delightful. Right. Like I had a choice when Mordaunt sends an invitation."Lord Castellane." I incline my head the exact amount required. Not too deep, shows weakness. Not too shallow, shows disrespect. I've learned this dance. Every movement calculated. "The pleasure is mine."His smile shows too many teeth. "And how is pack life treating you? I heard you've had some recent...

VALENTINAThe Whipper's office is in Whitechapel, tucked between a butcher shop and a pawn broker. Perfect cover. Blood smells from the butcher mask vampire scents. Desperation from the pawn shop masks everything else.I'm crouched on the roof across the street, watching through a scope I borrowed from Tom. Borrowed meaning stole, but he'll steal it back later so we're even.Three vampires went in forty minutes ago. Parliamentary Whippers, the enforcement arm nobody talks about. They're the ones who make sure supernaturals stay in line. Blackmail, threats, occasional disappearances. Democracy requires enforcement, after all.My phone buzzes silently. Text from Tom.How long you planning to watch? Getting boring.I don't respond. Tom thinks this is reconnaissance. Simple intelligence gathering, in and out, nothing risky.He's wrong.I'm here because Sibyl had a vision three days ago. Said I'd die in the Whippers' office in five months, two weeks, three days. Bled out on cheap carpet wh

COUNT ALTERONIThe Crimson Parliament meets in chambers beneath the Old Bailey. Ironic, holding our sessions under the mortal courts. They dispense justice upstairs while we decide who lives and dies below.I take my seat among the thirteen council members. Ancient vampires, every one of us. I'm the youngest at four hundred years. Mordaunt's the oldest at six hundred. Age brings power in vampire society. Also brings corruption, but we don't talk about that."Order." Lord Harborough strikes his gavel. He's chairing tonight's session, which means Mordaunt arranged it that way. Harborough's his creature. Loyal as a dog, nearly as smart. "We convene to discuss the Rookeries situation."Here we go. The extermination debate.Around the table, twelve faces show varying degrees of interest. Some, like Mordaunt, are eager. Some are bored. A few, like me, are opposed but outnumbered."The Brennan situation has escalated." Mordaunt stands, commanding attention effortlessly. Six hundred years of