At His Discretion Novels & Stories

“Not performative. Genuine.” That almost made him smile, and the urge irritated him because it was not amusement. Genuine was the word people reached for when they mistook discipline for truth. Adrian thanked them, dismissed the meeting with efficiency, and returned to his office with a pace that suggested ease. He closed the door behind him with more force than necessary, and the quiet settled quickly, thick and controlled, exactly how he liked it.

The words were deliberate. Not reassuring. Not final. Just… paused. “That means?” she asked. “It means there is insufficient evidence of misconduct.” Her chest eased— Slightly. “But,” he continued, “continued discretion is expected.” There it was. The warning beneath the resolution. “I understand.” “Good.” He leaned back slightly. “You’re young, Miss Cole.” She didn’t respond. “Ambition is not a flaw. But alignment matters.” The phrasing was careful. Intentional. Layered.

"Yesterday's attack demonstrated real, organized threat. This council has an obligation to weigh practical safety against personal preference when circumstances escalate this significantly." I sit through it, jaw tight, watching my own life get debated in careful, clinical language, every speaker circling the same underlying assumption. That my consent matters less than my usefulness. That whatever choice I make should ultimately bend toward whatever arrangement best serves pack interests, regardless of what I actually want.