Bennett had looked haunted when he’d beckoned Tom into his office, but his handshake had been firm. “I’ll be frank,” he’d said. “This Council needs cleaning from the inside out. And we need people like you to do it.”
Tom wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Condemnation or suspicion, probably. But instead, Bennett had leaned forward and asked him, quietly and seriously, if he’d consider stepping in temporarily to pull together a new team providing security for the Council. Until they figured out how deep the rot went.
“You’ve got experience, judgment, and, above all, integrity,” Bennett had said, dryly. “Which is more than can be said for others around here.”
Tom had nodded, because what else could he do? The world had split wide open beneath his feet. The least he could do was try to steady it.
Now, standing in his kitchen, he waited for the espresso machine to finish its tantrum. Bryce would be out of the shower soon, and maybe Bryce and coffee would help everything make sense again.
But then the machine popped, releasing pressure, and he flinched. It was too close to the sound of a suppressed gunshot. He could still see Jax’s face, cold and efficient. There’d been no anger, no hatred. He’d just been doing a job.
And the job had beenkilling him.
Tom tightened his grip on the counter, the granite edge biting into his palms. He was safe. He was home, for whatever that meant these days. He was okay.
But the moment he let go of the counter, he knew he wasn’t okay.
Councilor Steadman had ordered it.
Not just today. Not just him, but Jesse’s pack. Jesse’sfamily. Shifters with silver coats. He’d seen the awe when the councilors had seen Jesse, had heard the reverence in how they spoke about him. And she’d ordered them all killed.
Jesse had been—what? Seven years old?
Tom pressed his palm hard against the edge of the counter. The coffee hissed and gurgled on, oblivious.
Seven years old.
How did anyone give an order like that? How did they live with it afterward? How had she looked him in the eye all these years when talking about ethics, leadership, and service? He thought about the meetings they’d shared, the late nights spent drafting policy, her quiet encouragement when he’d doubted himself. All of it was lies.
He squeezed his eyes shut and saw Jesse, so in control until someone brought up his pack. And then, his hands had curled into fists.
He felt cold. Not just physically, though the tile beneath his feet felt like ice. Cold all the way through, like something essential had cracked inside him, and all the warmth had leaked out.
He’d trusted and respected her. He’d followed her lead, defended her against critics, believed in the work she was doing. And all along…
All along, she’d been the monster.
A sound escaped him—quiet and raw. His knees gave a little, and he clutched the counter tighter. Steadman hadn’t just betrayed the Council. She’d betrayed everything Tom had stood for, everything he believed in. And now she was gone. Another shifter would be voted in, taking her place on the Council as if she’d never been. But the things she’d done—those weren’t gone. They were carved into the world, into Jesse’s life. Into Tom’s.
He was still staring blindly at the counter when Bryce stepped into the kitchen.
“Hey,” Bryce said, voice low, uncertain.
Tom didn’t move.
He felt, rather than saw, Bryce hesitate. Then a hand settled gently on the small of his back.
Tom flinched.
“Tom.” Bryce’s voice was firmer now. “What is it?”
It wasn’t fair, Tom thought distantly, that Bryce got to sound like that. Solid. The one thing in the world that wasn’t crumbling.
He turned his face, just enough that Bryce could see the tears in his eyes.
“I worked for her for seven years,” he said hoarsely. “I admired her. I thought she— She was the one who taught me tolisten to what someonewasn’tsaying. She made me want to be better.”
Bryce drew closer, his hand still warm and steady against Tom’s back.
