I heard fragments as we made our way to our seats. "—the rings around their eyes—" "—is that really—" "—five of them, can you imagine—"
Let them whisper. Let them stare at the marks on my neck and the men who wore my bonds in their eyes. I had nothing to hide.
The Council Chair, Dr. Derrow, called the session to order.
"We're here at Headmaster Twilson's request," she said, her voice carrying through the chamber. "He's raised concerns about recent events at the Healing Center and requested a formal hearing. Headmaster, the floor is yours."
Twilson stepped into the center of the room.
"Thank you." His voice was smooth. Practiced. "I'll try to be brief, though the severity of the situation demands thoroughness."
He pressed a button on the small remote in his hand. A screen behind him flickered to life, showing the Healing Center's exterior.
"Three days ago, an uncontrolled biological event occurred on Academy grounds. An event that put students, staff, and the broader community at significant risk."
He clicked to the next image. Security footage of me being ushered into Cole's cabin.
"Miss Orlav experienced what I'm told is called a 'heat.' A violent physiological episode that lasted multiple days and required the presence of five male wolves to—" He paused, letting the implication hang. "—manage."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
"During this event, our security protocols were compromised." Another click. Footage of Cole entering the Healing Center's east wing. "Mr. Len Cole, our security consultant—the man we trusted to protect this institution—removed our most dangerous feral patient from containment and transported him to Miss Orlav's location."
The image changed to Stone. File photos from his worst days—feral, wild-eyed, barely human.
"This is the wolf Mr. Cole released. A feral so unstable he hospitalized two staff members just weeks ago. A wolf who cannot reliably hold human form. A wolf who, according to our own records, poses an extreme risk to anyone in his vicinity."
Stone went rigid beside me. I reached back without looking, found his hand, squeezed.
"Mr. Cole brought this wolf directly to Miss Orlav during her heat." Twilson's voice dripped with false concern. "An uncontrolled Omega in the grip of biological frenzy, combined with our most dangerous feral. Everyone in a five-mile radius was at risk."
"That's not what happened," Cole said, his voice tight.
"Mr. Cole, you'll have your chance to speak." Twilson didn't even look at him. "For now, I'm presenting the facts."
He clicked through more images. Charts showing feral activity during my heat—but twisted, the spikes highlighted instead of the drops. Staff statements expressing concern. Security logs showing Cole's movements.
"The pattern is clear," Twilson concluded. "Miss Orlav's presence at the Healing Center has not stabilized our feral population—it has destabilized them. Her heat triggered widespread agitation. Her bond with dangerous patients has compromised our security protocols. And our own security consultant has been so thoroughly compromised by his... connection to her... that he cannot be trusted to protect this institution."
He turned to face the council directly.
"I am formally requesting that Miss Orlav be removed from the feral program immediately. That the ferals currently housed at the Healing Center be relocated to a secure facility. And thata full investigation be launched into the security failures that allowed this situation to develop."
The chamber erupted.
Voices overlapped—some agreeing with Twilson, others protesting. I saw council members leaning toward each other, whispering urgently. The noise built until Derrow had to bang her gavel three times to restore order.
"The council will hear responses," she said. "Doctor, I understand you have data to present?"
Neal stood. He looked calm, but I could feel his nerves through the bond—a faint tremor of anxiety beneath his professional exterior.
"Thank you." He moved to the center of the room, tablet in hand. "Headmaster Twilson's presentation was... creative. But it omitted several crucial facts."
He pulled up his own display. The same timeline, but with different data highlighted.
"During Miss Orlav's heat, feral stability didn't decline—it improved. Dramatically." He pointed to the chart. "Cortisol levels across all patients dropped an average of forty percent. Shift stability improved by sixty percent. Aggressive incidents fell to zero."
He clicked to the next slide. Gray's file.
