Rebirth of the Broken Luna A Second Chance at Luna's Heart novel Chapter 439

Chapter 439

XENOIS

The war room-which was really just my study with extra chairs crammed in-was packed with every important person we

could gather on short notice. Zade sat at my right, looking exhausted but focused. Lumina was at my left, taking notes on everything being discussed. Carol, Marcus, Thorne, Rivers, Lyn, and Lynn filled the remaining seats, with a few others standing

along the walls.

Spread across my desk were the documents my parents had stolen from Jerome’s planning room. Lists of names, territories, dates. A comprehensive map of coordinated attacks targeting progressive supernatural leaders across the entire

western region.

It was worse than we’d thought.

“This isn’t just revenge,” I said, studying the documents for probably the twentieth time. “This is a systematic attempt to eliminate anyone pushing for change. Anyone advocating for integration, for breaking down old hierarchies, for accepting

previously marginalized supernatural groups.”

“Jerome didn’t just target you because of what your parents did during the territorial wars,” Zade added. “He targeted you

because you represent the future he’s trying to prevent.”

“How many names are on this list?” Lumina asked, her pen poised over her notepad.

“Thirty-seven,” Rivers said grimly. He’d been cataloging the intelligence since early this morning. “Alphas, lunas, elder

council members, influential pack advisors. Anyone with power who’s been advocating for progressive policies.”

“Thirty-seven targets,” Marcus repeated. “That’s not a conspiracy. That’s a war.”

“A war we need to prevent,” I said firmly. “Which means we need to warn everyone on this list. Let them know they’re

being targeted, help them implement security measures, coordinate defense strategies.”

“And we need allies,” Zade added. “Real allies. Not just the people already on our side, but others who might be convinced

to join us. We need to build a coalition strong enough that Jerome’s group can’t touch us.”

That had been the goal for the last two hours-reaching out to other alphas, other leaders, trying to build support for a

coordinated response.

It was going terribly.

I’d already made six calls. Three had been cautiously optimistic-alphas who were already implementing progressive

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Chapter 439

policies and understood they needed backup. Two had been neutral, willing to listen but not commit. And one had been actively hostile, accusing me of fear-mongering and trying to destabilize traditional pack structures.

“We have eight confirmed allies,” I said, looking at the list Lumina had been compiling. “Eight alphas who’ve agreed to

coordinate security and share intelligence. That’s not nearly enough.”

“Better than zero,” Lyn pointed out.

“But not enough to counter a coalition of thirty-seven targets worth of enemies,” I countered. “We need more support.

More people willing to work together instead of maintaining isolationist policies.”

“What about the others on the contact list?” Carol asked. “The ones we haven’t called yet?”

Rivers checked his tablet. “We have twenty-three more potential allies. But based on our research, at least eight of them

are firmly traditional. They’re likely to refuse any coalition that includes werewitches, fae, or other non-werewolf

supernaturals.”

“So they’re going to say no,” Marcus said.

“They’re going to say hell no,” Rivers corrected. “With speeches about maintaining purity of bloodlines and respecting

ancient laws and all the other rhetoric that’s been used to justify discrimination for centuries.”

“Call them anyway,” I decided. “Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe the threat of coordinated attacks will convince them that

survival matters more than prejudice.”

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

The next round of calls was even worse than the first. We reached out to eight different alphas, all from older, more

traditional territories. All of them leaders who’d been in power for decades and had very specific ideas about how packs should

operate.

Alpha Morrison from the northern territories listened to my entire explanation of Jerome’s conspiracy, the coordinated attacks, the intelligence we’d gathered. Then he said, and I quote: “This sounds like the natural consequence of trying to

change systems that have worked for millennia. Perhaps you should consider returning to traditional structures instead of

inviting chaos into your territories.”

He hung up before I could respond.

Alpha Chen-who I’d hoped might be sympathetic since Rivers mentioned he had a werewitch advisor-turned out to have

fired that advisor six months ago under pressure from his elder council. He told me that while he appreciated the warning

about potential attacks, he had no interest in forming coalitions with “elements that destabilize pack cohesion. By elements,

he clearly meant anyone who wasn’t a traditional werewolf.

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Alpha Rodriguez, whose family had been killed by nightwalkers decades ago, at least listened to the full presentation. But

her response was: “I survived attacks before by maintaining strong boundaries and clear hierarchies. I don’t need a coalition. I

need to protect my pack my way, which doesn’t include opening my doors to every supernatural who claims to want peace.”

One by one, they refused.

Refused to coordinate. Refused to share intelligence. Refused to even acknowledge that Jerome’s coalition might be a

threat worth taking seriously.

By the time we’d worked through all eight names on the “definitely traditional” list, I was ready to throw something.

“This is pointless,” I said, tossing my phone onto the desk with more force than necessary. “They’d rather risk getting

attacked than work with people they consider beneath them.”

“They’re scared,” Lumina said quietly. “Change is terrifying, especially when you’ve spent decades believing in a certain

system. Admitting that system is flawed means admitting they’ve been wrong.”

“Being wrong is better than being dead,” Zade pointed out.

“To them, being wrong might be worse than being dead,” Lyn said. “Pride is a powerful motivator. Especially for people

who’ve built their entire identities around traditional pack values.”

“So what do we do?” I asked, frustration bleeding into my voice. “We have eight allies, eight enemies who won’t help, and

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