All Chapters of The Wolfpack's New Receptionist: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The armored sedan pulled into the garage of the Vance Estate.I stepped out first, my gown tattered at the hem, my silver eyes scanning the perimeter for threats that no longer existed. I stood by the door, waiting for Caspian."Get her to the drawing room," a voice boomed from the elevator bank.Silas emerged from the shadows, his face a mask of cold, controlled fury. He didn't look at me; he looked at his brother, who was stepping out of the car, shakily adjusting his ruined tuxedo."Now, Eloise," Silas commanded.I moved instantly, my heels clicking against the polished concrete. Caspian followed, casting a nervous glance at Silas.Inside the drawing room, the tension snapped. Silas turned on Caspian before the doors had even fully shut."She failed, Caspian!" Silas’s voice was a whip-crack."Sterling is alive. He’s in the wind, protected by those... those mutts. Because of your incompetence, we now have a sitting Senator calling for a war crimes tribunal on national television.""S

The holding suite was a coffin of glass and white light. There were no corners for shadows to hide in. I stood in the center of the room. My eyes were fixed on a blemish on the far wall, my breathing shallow and rhythmic, timed to the blinking of the security camera in the corner. I was a statue, a masterpiece of biological engineering, waiting for a command that I was incapable of ignoring. The door hissed open. Caspian stepped in.He looked different without Isabelle’s eyes on him, less like a conqueror and more like a man plagued by his own cowardice. He stopped a few feet away, studying me with a look that turned my stomach, though my face remained a mask of indifference. He approached slowly, his hand reaching out to touch my cheek. I didn't flinch. The ache throbbed at the base of my skull where Isabelle’s previous seizure had ravaged my nerves."Eloise," he whispered, his voice thick with a fake tenderness. "I'm sorry about her. Isabelle... she’s useful, but she’s small-minde

Inside my head, it was a storm of noise. Now that the neural shackles were fried, melted into useless scrap by Isabelle’s jealous electricity, my senses were on fire. I could hear the heartbeat of a guard three hallways away. I could hear the hum of the city’s power grid.I looked at Isabelle’s body crumpled in the corner. She’d tried to kill me to win Caspian’s affection. Instead, she’d accidentally set the White Wolf free.I felt a primal urge to scream, to shift, and to tear my way through the ceiling until I reached Silas’s throat. My muscles were coiled springs, ready to explode. But the Thorne in me, the girl raised by a man who taught her that a cool head wins more wars than a sharp claw, held me back.If I walked out that door now, I’d be a target. There were hundreds of Vanguard soldiers in this building. I could kill ten, maybe twenty, but eventually, they’d bury me under a mountain of bodies.I looked up at the ventilation grate. I knew the pack were out there somewhere, but

Silas' face underwent a violent shift. The realization that the hundred-million-dollar neural architecture had been bypassed by Isebelle's jealousy, shattered his composure."Vanguard," Silas whispered, his voice vibrating with a frequency that bypassed the speakers and went straight into the ears of every black-armored soldier in the room."Kill them. Kill all of them."The world exploded.The Vanguard didn't hesitate. They didn't think. They were the perfect slaves Silas had dreamed of, and their first volley sent the delegates diving beneath the obsidian tables.On the floor below, Cane moved.It wasn't a shift. Torin had been holding him back, but as the first bullet grazed the stage, the leash snapped. Cane didn't roar. He let out a sound of pure, concentrated homicide. He tore through Torin’s grip, his claws furrowing the floor as he launched himself toward the stage.He didn't see the soldiers. He didn't see the screaming politicians. His golden eyes were fixed on the man standi

The journey back to the safe house was a blur of emotion and motion. The world we had known only hours ago was gone, replaced by a waking nightmare. As we navigated the shadows, the broadcast towers screamed a silent, subsonic command that turned the city into a hive.We only survived the wash of the wave because Silas had been forced to trigger the pulse through the discarded, partially damaged harness vest on the floor, a crude, uncalibrated proximity override. Our surging, high-adrenaline and raw combat focus actively scrambled the frequency, preventing the wave from locking onto us. Adrenaline caused by the sheer loss of our friend, adrenaline created bt Silas!Through the tinted glass of our extraction vehicle, I watched the horror of Silas’s transition of power. It wasn't a peaceful takeover. The Vanguard had been unleashed on the public figures, the senators, governors, and delegates.On every street corner, the black-armored soldiers were no longer "security"; they were executi