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Chapter thirty

Annabella

“ S imon, maybe we could discuss—”

Webster cut me off with a dismissive wave. “Take me to Talia.”

His tone left no room for argument, but it wasn’t the command that made my wolf bristle; it was the way he said her name. Like a hunter who’d finally cornered his prey. My wolf stirred, not liking his tone or the subtle, hungry excitement pulsing beneath his scent.

I led them through the facility’s corridors, past the main command center, to the secured doors at the far end.

I hesitated for just a split second, then took them to the left-hand door and into the observation room.

Something made me reluctant to give him direct access to Johnson.

Not yet. Besides, the observation room’s one-way glass revealed everything Simon wanted to see.

Johnson lay motionless on the bed, unconscious under my sleep spell, while the monitors beside her bed traced steady vital signs in glowing lines.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Simon’s gaze rooted to Talia. “Her current status?”

Before I could answer, Vivienne stepped forward, sliding into the space between me and Simon. “The subject appears stable but unresponsive. I’d need to get in there to conduct a thorough examination.”

I heard Felix’s snort behind me, quickly disguised as a cough. The corner of my mouth twitched.

I ignored Vivienne. “Johnson is under a Somnus Profundum spell. As I mentioned, we’ve discovered she’s been dosed with Mentem Clypeus. Lydia attempted to process the subject but couldn’t establish the necessary neural pathways.”

Vivienne made a soft sound in her throat, halfway between a hum and a sigh. “ Somnus Profundum? Rather… basic.”

Before I could stop myself, I bared my teeth in a gesture any Pack wolf would recognize as a threat. “I think you’ll find even basic spells are surprisingly effective at handling difficult people.”

Felix shifted slightly behind me, and I caught his reflection in the glass—that knowing grin that said he could read every homicidal thought crossing my mind. The unspoken promise of backup, of someone who’d hold Vivienne down while I pummeled her face, sent an unexpected thrill through me.

Simon finally dragged his attention away from Talia and turned to me. “Wake her.”

I blinked. “The Mentem Clypeus will still be active. We can’t perform the mind-wipe yet.”

“I’m aware,” Webster replied, his tone carrying the condescending patience of someone explaining basic concepts to a child. “I didn’t order you to begin the procedure. I ordered you to wake her.”

My wolf paced uneasily, hackles rising at something I couldn’t quite identify. Something about this felt wrong. Simon was never this dismissive with me, never this coldly commanding.

“She may be disoriented when she comes out of the spell,” I cautioned, wanting to stall but not quite sure why. “Possibly combative.”

Webster’s fingers traced slow, deliberate circles around his platinum rings. “Are you suggesting Talia could break through those restraints? That your team’s security preparations are… insufficient?”

The trap was elegantly laid. If I insisted Johnson was dangerous tied down to a bed, I’d be criticizing our own security measures.

Fuck.

“No, sir. I’ll wake her immediately.”

Simon followed me into the containment room. The circles beneath Johnson’s bed emitted a faint silver glow, their intricate patterns designed to weaken supernatural strength and amplify any magical workings.

To reverse a sleep spell, I needed physical contact, and I was glad Vivienne had stayed in the observation room so I would be spared her inevitable comments about incompetent half-witch blood.

I placed my palm against Talia’s forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin. My other hand pressed against her sternum, just above her heart, creating the circuit I needed to draw back the magic I’d woven into her consciousness.

Closing my eyes, I reached for the spell’s unique signature—that distinctive magical resonance as familiar to me as my own heartbeat. With a slow, controlled breath, I began unraveling the enchantment, visualizing silver-blue tendrils retreating through my palms like reverse lightning.

The magic tingled as it flowed back into me, carrying fragments of Johnson’s consciousness—disjointed flashes of color and emotion. This was intimate work, invasive. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I hated that Simon was watching.

Talia’s eyelids fluttered. Her pulse quickened on the monitor. I kept going, pulling her completely out of the spell, feeling the last threads of magic dissolve as they returned to me.

Her eyes snapped open—dark, piercing, immediately alert. They darted around the room before focusing on me. I watched recognition dawn, followed by calculation. She jerked against the restraints, testing their strength.

“I wouldn’t waste my energy if I were you.” My voice came out steadier than I felt.

“Annabella McGrath,” she said, her voice raspy from the spell. “Still doing Simon Webster’s dirty work, I see.”

My wolf growled softly inside my head.

“That will be all, Annabella.” Simon’s dismissal was sharp, final. “Leave us.”

I hesitated, suddenly reluctant to leave Johnson alone with him. Which was ridiculous. This was what I’d been doing for months—capturing Council members, wiping their memories, destroying the Council from within.

“Now,” Webster added, his tone hardening.

I nodded stiffly and headed for the door, acutely aware of Johnson’s eyes on my back as I left.

The observation room felt crowded when I slipped back inside.

Felix stood pressed close to the one-way glass, his entire body coiled with tension.

Duke was there too now, positioning himself near the door like he expected trouble.

Lydia lingered in the far corner, her expression unreadable, but I caught the excitement in her scent; she was eager to begin her work once the Clypeus wore off.

At the room’s center, Vivienne stood with perfect posture, her attention fixed on the scene beyond the glass. She didn’t so much as glance my way when I entered.

Through the glass, I watched Simon settle into the chair beside Johnson’s bed, relaxed and comfortable, like he was meeting an old friend for coffee.

“So, Talia Johnson,” he said, his voice coming through the observation room’s speakers with perfect clarity. “It has come to this. It’s been, what? Fourteen years since our last face-to-face conversation?”

Talia’s expression remained impassive. “Fifteen.”

One word, yet somehow loaded with history. The hairs on my arms stood up.

Simon smiled thinly. “Ah, yes. The day you and your colleagues decided to rewrite history.”

“Nothing was rewritten. Your own research notes condemned you.”

“Notes taken out of context by people who fundamentally misunderstood the work.”

Talia stared at him for a long moment. “I am not one of your fanatics, Simon Webster. I was there. I saw the test subjects. I saw what you did to them. I know what you had planned for me, for all of us.”

I frowned. Test subjects? Simon had never mentioned test subjects before.

The witch circles beneath Talia’s bed pulsed slightly. I glanced at Vivienne. Her face betrayed nothing, but she was watching Simon with absolute focus.

“Your spell would have enslaved every werewolf in America.”

“My spell would have protected society from uncontrolled Shifters,” Simon corrected smoothly. “A security measure, nothing more. Control only activated in case of violent episodes.”

I knew this to be true. It was the same explanation Simon had given me years ago. But something was making my wolf whine anxiously inside me.

Enough! You are not wanted here.

My wolf instantly went silent.

“If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, eventually, people will come to believe it? Is that it, Simon Webster? You paint yourself as the misunderstood victim of werewolf prejudice?”

Simon leaned back. “I don’t need to paint myself as anything other than what I am, Talia.

They believe me. They will always believe me, no matter what I say.

Certainly over your precious Council. Witches banned from the northern territories?

Centuries of peaceful coexistence destroyed overnight.

Families torn apart. Communities scattered.

Tut tut, Talia. Such an amateur move. I would have thought even you could see how it gave me fertile ground to recruit from. ”

Talia’s eyes narrowed. “We never destroyed your memories.”

“You did not. And that was remarkably stupid of you, wasn’t it?

If you had, you wouldn’t be here.” Simon smiled wide, showing perfect white teeth.

“Don’t worry, you’ll receive the best treatment.

When my witches are finished with you, you’ll still be alive.

You won’t be able to feed yourself and will need some lackey to wipe your ass, but you’ll be alive, Talia.

My only regret is that you won’t be able to truly appreciate my coming victory. ”

I felt a chill at his words, at the satisfaction in his tone. This wasn’t about simply neutralizing a threat. Simon was enjoying this.

“I wanted you to see it, if I am honest. Wanted you to know how completely I have beaten you.”

Simon stood and smoothed his jacket. “But I will have to remain content with this moment.” He said it in a way that suggested he thought even that was her fault. “Any last words?”

Talia stared at Simon, a smile spreading across her face. Not afraid, not broken. Not yet.

Simon hesitated, clearly expecting—maybe even hoping for—begging or threats or desperate bargaining. When none came, he shook his head and strode toward the door.

The door opened, and Simon swept back into the observation room, his composure absolutely perfect. If his conversation with Talia had affected him, he showed no sign. “Proceed with mind wipe as soon Mentem Clypeus wears off.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Vivienne will oversee the procedure and report directly to me.”

Like hell she would.

This was my operation. We had planned the capture, executed it flawlessly, taken all the risks. And now he wanted to hand control to fucking Vivienne?

“With respect,” I said carefully, “this is my op. My crew made the capture.”

Vivienne’s eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch, as if my audacity was mildly amusing, as Simon flapped his hand, dismissing my statement. “She has experience with high-value subjects.”

“As do we.” The edge in my voice surprised me. I’d never challenged Simon before—not once in all the years I’d followed him. Part of me was stunned that I was doing it now, but I couldn’t seem to stop. “We’ve successfully processed five Council members without a single complication.”

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Annabella, I don’t have time for this. Vivienne will remain.” He was already moving toward the door. I opened my mouth to push the point further, then clamped it shut. Simon always knew best. It wasn’t my place to question his decisions.

Was it?

I trailed after him as he rounded up his witches and broke the lockdown with a flick of two fingers. The air pressure changed as the magical barriers dissolved, making my ears pop.

Felix moved to stand behind me, his presence warm and solid. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I said automatically.

He stepped around to face me, blocking my view of Vivienne with his broad shoulders. “Only, you’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re mentally measuring someone for a shallow grave.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Say the word, Moonbeam, and I’ll grab the shovel. I even know a spot where the soil’s nice and soft—no rocks or anything.”

A laugh escaped me. “I might just take you up on that.”

He leaned closer, close enough that his scent wrapped around me like a protective shield.

“Please do. I make an excellent accomplice. These hands stay steady under pressure,” he murmured, flexing his fingers in a way that sent heat racing through my veins, “and I’ve got a mouth that knows when to stay shut… and when not to.”

His eyes locked with mine, blazing with something dangerous and intoxicating that made my pulse quicken.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I managed, heat climbing up my neck that had absolutely nothing to do with anger. “Nobody ever suspects the charming ones, do they?”

Something flickered across his face—there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it. Felix took a small step back, but it felt like a chasm had just opened up between us, and I had no idea why.

“I’ll make sure Webster leaves, then do a perimeter check.”

I nodded, studying his face, trying to work out what just happened.

“Annabella,” Vivienne’s crisp voice cut through the moment. “Bring refreshments, would you? Something better than whatever passes for coffee in this facility.”

My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. I turned and left, thinking about how ground glass made an excellent coffee sweetener.