“Three operational, with two more nearing completion,” she replies.
I process this information, mapping it against what we already know. The geographical spread suggests a coordinated effort to implement the program kingdom-wide as quickly as possible. The king isn’t testing the waters—he’s diving in headfirst, committing fully to the doctor’s vision.
“And the subjects?” I ask, though I dread the answer. “Where are they coming from?”
The Queen Mother’s expression hardens, genuine anger flashing in her golden eyes. “Orphanages. Debtors’ prisons. The lower districts. Anywhere vulnerable women can be found and quietly removed without causing too much outcry.”
Just as I feared. The most vulnerable, the most easily exploited. Those without families to protest, without connections to leverage, without voices that would be heard in the halls of power.
“How many?” The question comes out rougher than intended, emotion bleeding through my carefully maintained control.
“Dozens so far,” she says, her voice matching my own in barely suppressed rage. “Hundreds by month’s end, if the program continues unchecked.”
Hundreds. The number echoes in my mind, each digit representing a life destroyed, a person reduced to an experiment, a breeding vessel for the king’s twisted vision. Thescale of it is staggering, even for someone who has witnessed the worst of what power can do when unconstrained by conscience.
“We need to move faster,” I say, thinking aloud now rather than engaging in careful diplomacy. “The timeline we discussed with Logan—it’s too conservative. We can’t wait months to build support, to gather allies. By then, it will be too late for too many.”
The Queen Mother watches me closely, something like satisfaction flickering across her features. “Yes,” she agrees. “Precisely my assessment. Which is why I needed to speak with you directly, without my grandson’s knowledge. Logan’s primary concern is the throne, as it should be, but he won’t want you diverting your attention to this with the risk involved. I disagree that it can wait.”
“Direct action,” I translate, understanding immediately what she’s suggesting. “Targeting the clinics themselves rather than building toward a formal challenge to the king.”
She nods, approval evident in her expression. “The clinics first—disrupt the program, free the subjects, destroy the research. Undermining the promises he has made to the Alpha leaders of our neighboring provinces will destabilize his base of support. Only then, with the immediate threat neutralized, do we move against the king himself.”
It’s a sound strategy, one that prioritizes saving lives over political maneuvering. But it’s also incredibly dangerous, with a high likelihood of failure if not executed perfectly. And it puts Maya directly in the Inquisitor’s path again—something I’ve been desperately trying to avoid.
“Logan will never agree to this,” I say finally.
“Then Logan must be persuaded,” the Queen Mother says, her voice hardening. “Or circumvented. The lives at stake matter more than my grandson’s political scruples.”
The statement should shock me—a grandmother suggesting we go against her own grandson’s wishes, potentiallyundermining his authority before he even takes the throne. But I find myself nodding in agreement, the faces of those unnamed Omegas flashing through my mind.
“I’ll need resources,” I say, the decision forming even as I speak. “Information on the clinics’ security, personnel, schedules. Transportation. Weapons. A team I can trust.”
“All can be arranged,” she replies without hesitation. “Dani has already begun gathering the necessary intelligence. She’ll work with you directly on the operational details.”
The speed of her response confirms my suspicion that this conversation was planned well in advance. The Queen Mother has been several steps ahead of us all along, preparing for this moment while we fumbled through our escape from the capital.
“And Maya?” I ask, the question that’s been burning in my mind since she first suggested this alternate approach. “What role do you envision for her in this plan?”
The Queen Mother’s expression softens slightly, something like genuine concern flickering across her features. “None, if possible. Her testimony, her experiences, will be crucial in the political phase that follows the direct action. Risking her unnecessarily now would be foolish.”
Relief washes through me, though I’m careful not to show it. At least in this, our interests align. Maya has suffered enough.
The assessment is accurate enough that I can’t dispute it, though loyalty compels me to offer some defense. “He’s trying to change. To be better.”
“Trying is not the same as succeeding,” she points out. “And in matters of such importance, intentions matter far less than actions.”
Again, I can’t argue with her logic. Logan’s intentions toward Maya may have improved, but his actions continue to reflect the entitled Alpha mindset he was raised with. The forced bond itself is evidence enough of that.
“I’ll speak with Dani tomorrow,” I say, returning to practical matters rather than dwelling on Logan’s flaws. “Begin planning the first operation. But I want to be clear about one thing, Your Highness.”
“Yes?” she prompts when I pause.
“I’m not betraying Logan,” I state firmly. “I’m prioritizing the immediate threat to women’s lives over political considerations. There’s a difference.”
The Queen Mother studies me for a long moment, her golden eyes unreadable in the moonlight. Then she nods, a single sharp movement that seems to settle something in her mind.
“A semantic distinction,” she says finally. “But one I’ll accept for now. Just remember, Poe—the moment may come when you have to choose between your loyalty to my grandson and what is right.”
