Rebirth of the Broken Luna A Second Chance at Luna's Heart novel Chapter 480

Chapter 480

ZADE

Xenois looked at all of us, then started laughing. “Fine. Point taken. I’m terrible at self-care and everyone else had to coordinate to

force me to take a break.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Now, can we discuss the actually concerning part of this situation? You have a traitor in your pack.”

That sobered everyone quickly.

“Someone gave Jerome’s people detailed information about our security systems,” Thorne said. “Layout of the basement, location of

backup generators, timing of guard rotations. That level of detail requires inside access.”

“Who knew all of that?” Xenois asked.

“Security team, senior pack members, anyone who’s been here long enough to observe patterns,” Thorne listed. “We’re looking at

maybe thirty possible suspects.”

“Start with people who’ve expressed opposition to the progressive reforms,” I suggested. “Traditionalists who might sympathize with

Jerome’s cause.”

“Already doing that,” Thorne confirmed. “But we need to be careful. False accusations could create more problems than they solve.”

“What about the captured infiltrators?” Lumina asked. “Have they said anything?”

“Nothing,” Thorne said. “They’re either very loyal to Jerome or very scared of what he’ll do if they talk. We’ve tried standard

interrogation, offered deals, threatened prosecution. They won’t give us anything.”

“Let me try,” I offered. “I have some experience with reluctant witnesses. Sometimes a different interrogator gets different results.”

“You want to torture them?” Xenois asked carefully.

“I want to have a conversation,” I corrected. “Torture is ineffective and morally questionable. But a well-structured interrogation with

the right psychological pressure? That actually works.”

“How is that different from torture?” Lumina asked.

“Torture is about causing pain to break someone’s will,” I explained. “Interrogation is about understanding someone’s motivations and

offering them better alternatives than silence. One destroys people. The other just exploits existing cracks in their loyalty.”

“That’s still morally questionable,” Lyn pointed out.

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“Welcome to pack leadership,” I said. “Where everything is morally questionable and you’re just trying to choose the least terrible

option.”

“Philosophy aside, Xenois said, “if you think you can get information from the prisoners, I’m not going to stop you. We need to know

if there are more attacks planned. And we need to identify the traitor before they can provide more intelligence to Jerome.”

“I’ll start today,” I said. “Thorne, I’ll need access to the prisoners and their backgrounds. Anything you’ve learned about them-where

they’re from, their supernatural type, any connections to known Jerome operatives.”

“I’ll get you everything we have,” Thorne promised.

We spent the next hour reviewing the attack in detail-entry points, methods, timing, what had failed in our security protocols and

what had succeeded. It was a productive debrief, the kind of tactical analysis that would help prevent future incidents.

But I kept being distracted by how different Xenois seemed. Still engaged, still asking smart questions, but not spiraling into panic or

self-recrimination. The break had done him good. He was thinking more clearly, responding more strategically, not letting guilt override

judgment.

Maybe forcing alphas to take care of themselves should be standard policy across all packs.

“One more thing,” Thorne said as the meeting was winding down. “The kids-Lake, Riley, and Ollie-they all want to help with

security now. They think they should be given official roles in pack defense.”

“They’re five,” Lumina said.

“They’re five-year-olds who successfully defended the pack house against infiltrators,” Thorne countered. “I’m not saying we make

them full security officers. But maybe some kind of junior oversight role? Let them feel involved and useful?”

“Junior oversight,” Xenois repeated skeptically.

“They’re going to try to help regardless,” I pointed out. “Might as well give them a framework to do it within so you can maintain

some control over their involvement.”

“That’s… actually not terrible logic,” Xenois admitted. “Fine. Junior security advisors. They can attend appropriate briefings, offer

suggestions, and learn proper protocols. But no active combat roles.”

“Agreed,” Thorne said. “Though I make no promises about what they’ll do if someone actually attacks while they’re present.”

“Fair enough,” Xenois conceded.

The meeting broke up, people heading to various responsibilities. I stayed behind with Lyn, both of us watching Xenois and Lumina

interact with the easy affection of mates who’d actually had time together.

“Think it’ll last?” Lyn asked quietly. “The improved mood and better judgment?”

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*If we make sure he keeps taking breaks,” I said. “This can’t be a one-time thing. He needs regular time to decompress or he’ll just slide back into exhausted crisis management mode.”

“So we enforce mandatory cabin time,” Lyn said. “Luna’s orders backed by allied alpha authority.”

“Exactly, I agreed. “Though I’m amused that we’re conspiring to force our fellow alpha to take care of himself.”

“Someone has to,” Lyn said. “Left to his own devices, Xenois would work himself to death trying to save everyone.”

“True, I acknowledged. “But at least he’s learning. Slowly. With significant pushing from everyone around him.”

*Progress is progress,” Lyn said philosophically.

We made our way back through the portal to our own territory. I had interrogations to plan and Lyn had healing work to catch up on after spending yesterday helping coordinate the security response.

But I was smiling.

Because Xenois had taken a break. Had trusted his second to handle things. Had come back refreshed instead of burned out.

And because Lake had apparently decided that portable solar portals were a valid defensive strategy, which was both terrifying and

hilarious.

This alliance between our packs-the permanent portal, the blended households, the shared responsibilities—it was working. Better

than I’d anticipated when we’d first established it.

We were stronger together. More resilient. Better able to handle the various crises that kept emerging.

And occasionally, we got entertainment from five-year-olds thwarting sophisticated rescue operations with improvised dimensional

magic.

I’d take it.

Being alpha was hard enough. Might as well find humor where we could.

Even if that humor came from watching Jerome’s carefully planned operations get destroyed by kindergarteners.

Especially then, actually.

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