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"Traffic in the lower levels was murder," he pants, driving his elbow into a cultist's solar plexus. He grimaces, the heavy pain-numbing magic clearly beginning to wear off. "Literally. Coven members are packed wall-to-wall down there trying to tear us apart."

I cut through the melee toward Serenity, but something slams into me from the side, hard enough to crack ribs. Gideon Night rolls to his feet, eyes gleaming with anticipation as he straightens his torn council robes.

"Darius Morvane," he says, brushing dust from his graying beard like we're meeting at a dinner party instead of a supernatural war zone. "Still playing the hero, I see. Some habits die harder than others."

"Gideon." A ferocious rage takes over, my senses expanding as every muscle coils for violence. "Should have known you'd be here gloating over your handiwork."

"Oh, my dear boy, this runs much deeper than gloating." He circles me effortlessly, ignoring the battle raging around us. "This is vindication. Decades of careful planning finally bearing fruit."

I lunge forward, but Gideon moves at an enhanced speed that reveals the true warrior beneath the council bureaucrat. The fist catches my jaw before I can slip it and snaps my head back while rings burn against my skin.

"Surprised?" He blocks my counterstrike with reflexes no bureaucrat should possess. "Thirty years behind a council desk, and you never once wondered how I stayed so comfortable around wolves."

Behind us, Serenity screams as a blinding radiance pours from her tattoos. The entity's presence fills the chamber, and I can see her fighting against something trying to crawl inside her mind.

"Let her go." I drive my knee toward Gideon's ribs.

He catches my leg and twists until ligaments pop. "She's far too valuable as leverage. You know that better than anyone now, don't you? Since you've gone and read all those damning little files."

"I know everything." I grab his wrist and squeeze until bones grind together. "From the pack’s massacre to your thirty-year audition for this cult."

"Everything?" He wrenches free, mechanical silver claws snapping from concealed bracers at his wrists. "Then tell me, Darius—did you ever wonder why certain contracts always landed on your desk? Why specific targets keep crossing your path?"

The claws rake across my chest, parting gear like tissue paper. Blood wells over my skin, the metal burning and actively resisting my accelerated healing. I ignore the searing pain and push forward.

"You curated my kill list." The realization slots into place, and the clarity of it sends my awareness to the long years after the massacre. The slow, invisible hand steering my career.

"I flagged every rogue witch for your attention and made sure you heard about every coven dispute first." Gideon dances backward as I swing hard enough to cave in a normal man's skull. "Each assignment reinforced exactly the right lessons to ensure the wolf remained angry and isolated. Aiming him at witches guaranteed he never turned around to look at the man holding the leash."

Serenity's agonized cry cuts through our exchange. The entity's influence grows stronger, moonlike brilliance now pouring from every inch of her skin. Over Gideon's shoulder, I can see Malachai safely positioned behind a shimmering barrier at the main altar.

"Kellan!" I dodge Gideon's claws. "The barrier!"

Kellan tosses one of his custom kinetic disruptors like a grenade. It clamps onto Malachai's shield and detonates with a high-frequency screech, shattering the magical wall into a million useless sparks. Malachai barely flinches, ignoring the battle as he continues his frantic ritual chanting over Serenity's bound form.

"Focus on me, Morvane." Gideon circles closer, eyes bright with satisfaction. "She's beyond your reach now. But I want you to appreciate the craftsmanship. I invested years of work into hundreds of carefully chosen assignments, and you took every single one without question."

"I took them because I trusted the system you corrupted." My delivery emerges flat and controlled—nothing like the explosive rage that consumed me in the warehouse when I first learned his wrongdoings. That grief already burned through me, leaving behind something colder and sharper. "First you destroyed my pack, Gideon. Then you made a hollow wasteland out of the seven years after it."

An intrinsic and satisfied recognition flickers behind his facial features, like an artist hearing his work described accurately. "And you never suspected a thing. Not even once. That's the part I savored most."

The last thread of restraint I've been holding dissolves, making way for a deliberate power far more dangerous than the wild explosion at the warehouse. The wolf and the man are finally aligned on a single, absolute objective.

"You hollowed out my life and filled it with your poison. And now you're done."

I launch myself at Gideon at supernatural speed, abandoning technique for raw, brutal force. My fist connects with his jaw and sends him sprawling across the stone floor. Blood sprays from his mouth as he rolls, but I'm already on him.

"Darius, wait—" he gasps, but I drive my knee into his ribs, the impact fracturing bone.

"Wait?" I grab him by the throat and haul him upright. "Like you waited before slaughtering my pack? Like you waited before turning me into your personal weapon?"

His claws rake across my forearm, but I barely feel the sting. The wolf in me demands blood and justice, eager to tear him apart piece by piece for every year of manipulated hatred.

"You don't understand," Gideon chokes out, his pupils blown wide with something that might be fear. "The entity—it needs conflict to feed. I was serving a greater purpose⁠—"

"Your greater purpose can rot in hell."

I slam him against the chamber wall, the impact splintering the stone. His head bounces off the rock, and blood trickles from his temple. The savage satisfaction I expected never arrives, replaced by a different urgency rising in my chest.