SERAPHINA’S POV

OTS had never belonged to the world of packs.

“We take the people packs throw away,” Lucian had told me during my first tour of the facility. “Rogues, outcasts, defectors, wolves who no longer know where they belong. If they can work, think, and survive without selling their souls, there’s a place for them here.”

Now, standing inside the temporary OTS base, as the world sharpened its teeth around the word rogue, I felt the truth of Lucian’s words ache in me. I had not understood nearly enough.

The base no longer resembled the home I lived in when Kieran and I first divorced.

Every available surface had been surrendered to work. Laptops glowed across the dining table. Maps covered the walls. Supply crates lined the hallway outside the kitchen.

Judy had turned the living room into a communications hub, while Roxy had claimed the kitchen counter for logistics, inventory, and several arguments she appeared to be winning through sheer intimidation.

But beneath the usual pressure, something uglier had begun to move.

Rogue members stood together near the far windows in a cluster too deliberate to be casual.

Wolves who had followed me off the old OTS headquarters without hesitation now looked at me with wariness, hurt, and accusation barely concealed beneath stiff shoulders and guarded eyes.

When I entered the main room, the conversations thinned.

Judy’s gaze flicked toward me from across the room, slightly wary. Roxy stopped mid-sentence, her expression hardening as if she was already preparing to throw someone out by the collar if necessary.

"Hey!" she barked, and a few of the occupants flinched. "Stop looking at her like that. She’s not the enemy."

While I appreciated the distinction, it did nothing to ease the tension in the room.

“What happened?” I asked softly.

A man named Callum stepped forward, his mouth tight with anger. He was one of OTS’s oldest field scouts, a rogue who had never joined any pack after his original Alpha sold half his border village to smugglers.

I knew his history because Lucian had kept files on everyone, and I’d studied everyone who’d left OTS with me.

“What happened?” he repeated. “You brushed us off when we questioned your loyalty to OTS, but now you stand beside Nightfang while they paint rogues as monsters.”

A low murmur rolled through the room.

My chest tightened, but I kept my voice even. “No. Kieran named Jack Draven and his hostile network.”

“Do you think people care about the demarcation?” another rogue demanded from behind him. “All they heard was rogue. They heard permission.”

“They attacked Mara’s bakery last night,” Callum said, his voice roughening. “She has nothing to do with Jack. She has never met Jack. But someone threw wolfsbane through her window and painted her door with pig’s blood.”

Silence spread heavily.

My fingers curled at my sides.

“I know,” I said softly.

Callum’s eyes flashed. “Do you?”

“Yes,” I said, and this time my voice cut clearly through the room. “I know about Mara’s bakery. I know about the assault at the border market. I know about the two boys dragged out of their apartment in Gray Hollow because their neighbors decided rogue scent was enough proof of guilt.”

I folded my arms. “Did you know that the culprit in Mara’s case has been arrested and is currently in holding? Do you know the guilty Gray Hollow tenants have been evicted and will be lucky if they find room in a homeless shelter?”

A few expressions shifted.

“I’m not blind to what is happening,” I continued. “And I am not going to let anyone use Jack’s crimes as an excuse to punish people who have done nothing wrong.”

Vanessa laughed bitterly. “Easy to say now. But when it comes down to it, and you have to choose, it won’t be OTS, and you fucking know it.”

Her words struck like claws, deeper than I wanted to show.

I understood the root of her anger—fear.

OTS had accepted rogues when packs would not. It had given them work, shelter, anonymity, dignity.

To them, my alliance with Kieran already looked dangerous. My return to Nightfang had already looked like a step toward the pack world that had rejected them.

And now Kieran’s campaign had made rogue communities feel hunted.

I drew in a slow breath.

“You think I betrayed OTS,” I said.

No one answered, and the silence answered for them.

For one brief, aching moment, I thought of Lucian.

Of the man who had built this place on ideals he had somehow both honored and corrupted.

Of the seal he had left me, and the responsibility he had placed on my shoulders.

I steadied myself, letting resolve fill my voice.

“OTS’s core belief was never that rogues should be untouchable,” I said. “It was that no one should be condemned because of what they are instead of what they have done. Jack has abducted people, trafficked wolves, supported illegal experiments, and helped build a network that treats living beings as materials. He has to be stopped.”

Callum swallowed, but his jaw remained hard.

“And when the world comes for the rest of us?” he asked.

“Then they will answer to me.”

The room went very still.

I let the words settle, not as comfort, but as promise.

“If anyone targets innocent rogues, I will treat it as a violation of campaign authority. If any pack uses this as cover for harassment, assault, or seizure of property, they will be punished accordingly, and Kieran will back me.”

Roxy’s mouth curved, fierce and approving. Judy’s smile was softer, more relieved.

Callum stared at me for a long moment, something painful flickering across his face. “How can we trust you?”

I looked toward the nearest screen, where Jack’s name crawled across another news feed beside images of seized wolfsbane and hidden cells.

“I’ll prove it.”

By noon, the main hall of Nightfang was once again full.

I stood beneath the lights with Kieran at my side, but slightly behind me, by choice rather than command. His presence was a wall of quiet strength at my back, cedar and rain grounding me.

Reporters shouted questions the moment I stepped forward.

“Luna Seraphina, are rogues now considered hostile by default?”

“Will OTS continue sheltering rogue members?”

“Is it true the rogue communities are rallying behind Jack Draven?”

My hands rested against the podium.

“Listen to me carefully,” I said.

The room snapped into silence.

I looked across the cameras, past the lenses, past the hungry faces, imagining Mara standing in front of her shattered bakery window, imagining Callum watching from the temporary base, imagining rogue children being told to stay inside because frightened people had decided fear mattered more than fairness.

“No rogue is a criminal simply for being a rogue,” I said clearly. “And anyone using this campaign as an excuse to target innocent people will answer for it.

“OTS was built to protect wolves the world discarded. Outcasts. Survivors. Wolves who had nowhere else to go. That has not changed.” My voice sharpened. “We will not tolerate innocent rogues being threatened, attacked, denied shelter, or targeted because of hysteria surrounding Jack Draven.”

Several reporters immediately began speaking over one another.

I raised my hand.

“Starting tonight, OTS and Nightfang are opening emergency protection channels for rogue civilians. Safehouses, legal assistance, relocation support, medical aid, and incident reporting will be available through the numbers and encrypted channels released after this conference. Every report will be investigated.”

A ripple spread through the room.

“Let me make this absolutely clear,” I continued. “The allied forces are hunting traffickers, kidnappers, murderers, and accomplices involved in illegal experimentation. We are not hunting people for lacking a pack bond. That distinction matters, and if the public refuses to make it, then we will force them to.”

Questions erupted instantly.

“What about rogue territories harboring Jack’s forces?”

“Do you believe rogue communities are being unfairly blamed?”

“Will Nightfang actually protect rogues?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately. “Because fear spreads faster than truth. Some hear the word rogue and decide guilt before evidence even enters the room. We’ve already seen attacks against innocent civilians in the last twenty-four hours.” My jaw tightened. “That ends now.”

The cameras flashed relentlessly.

I leaned forward.

“If you are innocent and someone comes after you because of this campaign, report it. If a pack abuses its authority, report it. If civilians think they can play vigilante and target rogue families in the streets, report it.”

The room had gone completely still again.

“OTS will respond,” I said. “Nightfang will respond.”

Something shifted then.

Not politically.

Emotionally.

Because this wasn’t a war speech. It was protection—someone drawing a line around people the world usually ignored.

Only after several long seconds did I continue.

“If Jack Draven and his accomplices surrender within three days and submit to lawful investigation, the allied forces will not start a war without cause. We are prepared to act because innocent people have been taken, trafficked, poisoned, and experimented on. We are not seeking blood for the sake of blood. Those who stand with Jack after this warning choose his crimes with him. But no innocent rogue will be treated as Jack’s shield, scapegoat, or substitute.”

A reporter near the front called out sharply, “And if Jack refuses to surrender?”

My gaze hardened.

“Then he and his accomplices will feel the full force of the wrath of the allied forces.”

Silence pressed heavily across the room.

I let it sit there. Let them feel it.

“This is your last chance, Jack,” I said, knowing wherever he was, he was watching. “Stop hiding behind innocent rogues and own up to your crimes."

The statement landed like a blade driven into stone.

By nightfall, things had gotten more intense.

Jack’s warning period turned against him, transforming from mercy into a countdown.

Former sympathizers scrambled to deny connection. Border contacts vanished from his network.

Rogues who had once feared speaking against him began sending anonymous tips through the channels we had opened.

Kieran’s standing rose because he looked like the Alpha willing to end what others had tolerated.

Mine rose because I had drawn the line before victory could rot into persecution.

But as I stood beside the window long after midnight, watching the lights of Nightfang burn against the dark, I couldn’t ignore the unease that churned within me.

Kieran came up behind me and rested his hand on my waist.

“You did well,” he said.

I leaned back into him, exhausted enough to accept the comfort without pretending I did not need it.

“Three days,” I murmured. “You think he’ll actually surrender?”

Kieran’s arm tightened around me.

“No,” he sighed. “I don’t think he will.”

I sighed, leaning into him. “Yeah, neither do I.”

Across the screens behind us, Jack Draven’s face appeared again beneath another wave of condemnation.

Three days before full-on war.

And somehow, I knew Jack would not make it easy.