Through the bonds, I felt them all. James's simmering anger. Neal's controlled focus. Cal's distant worry. Stone's agitation, pressing against our connection like he could reach me through sheer force of will.
And underneath it all, something else. Something new.
I pushed it down. Buried it. I couldn't afford to think about Cole right now. Not with everything else at stake.
"This emergency session will come to order." Dr. Werrow's voice cut through the noise, and the chamber fell silent. "We are here to address last night's containment breach and to hear final recommendations regarding the feral subjects currently housed in the Healing Center."
Twilson was on his feet before she finished speaking.
"If I may, Dr. Werrow." His voice was smooth. Controlled. The voice of a man who smelled blood in the water. "I believe last night's events speak for themselves. A feral wolf broke through containment—containment that we were assured was sufficient—and attacked a member of our community. It is only by fortune that we are not discussing a fatality today."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber. I felt James tense beside me.
"The evidence is clear," Twilson continued. "These creatures are dangerous. Unpredictable. No amount of experimental treatment or emotional intervention can change their fundamental nature. They are a threat to every person at Frosthaven Academy, and they must be removed. Permanently."
He sat down. The murmurs grew louder.
Werrow raised her hand for silence. "Ms. Whitaker. Your response?"
Rae stood. She looked tired—I wondered if she'd slept at all—but her voice was steady.
"Headmaster Twilson is correct that last night's breach was serious. It was also unprecedented. In the six weeks these ferals have been in our care, we have had zero containment failures. Zero incidents requiring emergency intervention." She paused, letting that sink in. "Until last night."
"One incident is one too many," Twilson interjected.
"One incident is also an anomaly that requires investigation, not a pattern that justifies extermination or removal." Rae's voice sharpened. "The feral who breached containment—designated Subject Four—had been showing signs of decline for several days. His vital signs were erratic. His behavior had become increasingly withdrawn. We believe he experienced some form of psychological crisis that triggered the escape attempt."
"A crisis that nearly killed someone."
"A crisis that was contained within minutes, with no fatalities and only minor injuries." Rae turned to face the full council. "I am not here to minimize what happened. But I am here to provide context. Subject Four was not responding to treatment the way the others have. His case is not representative of the progress we've seen."
"What progress?" Twilson's voice dripped skepticism.
Rae touched her tablet. The display screen behind her lit up with charts and data.
"Subject One—the wolf Miss Orlav calls Stone—achieved full human shift for twelve minutes following bond completion. His organ failure has completely reversed. His vital signs have stabilized. He is no longer in immediate medical danger." She changed the display. "Subject Two—the gray wolf—has achieved partial shift on two additional occasions since the initial breakthrough. Each shift has lasted longer than the previous. He is showing clear signs of cognitive recovery."
More charts. More data. The clinical language of hope.
"Subjects Two and Three have shown marked improvement in behavioral indicators. Decreased aggression. Increased responsiveness. Preliminary signs that they may be capable of shift attempts within the next several weeks." Rae set down her tablet. "Four out of five subjects showing measurable progress. That is not failure. That is unprecedented success."
"And the fifth subject?" Twilson asked. "The one who broke through containment and attacked—"
"Is being evaluated. His prognosis is uncertain." Rae's jaw tightened. "But one struggling case does not negate four recovering ones. And it certainly does not justify destroying all five."
Werrow nodded slowly. "Dr. Wilson. You have medical evidence to present?"
Neal stood. I watched him move to the front of the chamber—my mate, my healer, the man who had held my hand through the worst of this and was now fighting for wolves he'd never expected to care about.
"The physiological data supports Rae's assessment," he said. "The ferals who are responding to treatment are showing genuine neurological recovery. Brain scans indicate increased activity in regions associated with human cognition and emotional regulation. This is not a temporary effect or a statistical anomaly. These wolves are healing."
He pulled up additional displays. Scan comparisons. Chemical analyses. The technical language of medicine marshaled in defense of creatures most people considered beyond saving.
"Furthermore," Neal continued, "I have previously stated, I have uncovered historical records that suggest these ferals may not have become feral naturally. We still need to discover what was done to them."
The chamber erupted.
Order was eventually restored. The security consultant was called to report.
