Reject me twice (Kira and Theron) novel Chapter 43

[Damon’s POV]

The intelligence reports kept coming, and each one was worse than the last.

I spread them across the war room table in the gray light of early morning, arranging them by territory, and the picture that emerged made the cold thing living in my chest grow teeth.

Three weeks since the broken crown symbol had appeared in intercepted letters and I’d brought the evidence to Kira. In that time, the Order hadn’t just persisted—it had metastasized.

My advisors gathered around the table. Commander Voss studied the territorial markers with narrowed eyes.

Lady Ashford cross-referenced the recruitment patterns against census data. Thane, my chief intelligence officer, stood at the far end with his arms crossed and an expression that suggested he’d already reached conclusions he wasn’t going to enjoy sharing.

“At least a dozen packs,” Thane said, his voice flat and clinical. “Confirmed Order presence in the Western Reaches, the Northern Territories, three packs along the eastern border, and at least four in the central provinces.”

He pointed them out. “Those are the ones we’ve verified. Our agents suspect activity in another eight to ten packs where we haven’t yet been able to confirm membership, but the rhetoric is appearing in public discourse with a consistency that suggests organized distribution.”

“Recruitment targets?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. “And don’t sanitize it for the crown, Ashford. I need the full picture—who they’re pulling in, how they’re doing it, and how deep the roots go.”

“Wolves who lost status when Seraphine fell,” Lady Ashford said, tracing connections between territories.

“Minor nobles whose influence depended on the old power structure. Traditionalist elders, disaffected warriors, anyone with a grudge and a reason to believe the new order threatens their position.”

She paused. “They’re also recruiting wolves who have no political grievance at all—ordinary pack members who are simply afraid. The Order’s rhetoric is devastatingly effective with people who don’t understand what’s happening and want someone to blame.”

I knew the rhetoric by heart now.

The natural order has been disrupted. Twin rule violates the ancient covenant. Magic itself rebels against the abomination. The realm will suffer until balance is restored. One twin must die. This is not murder. This is mercy.

It was brilliant, in the worst possible way. Simple enough for any wolf to understand, rooted deeply enough in tradition to feel legitimate, and supported by evidence that was genuinely difficult to refute.

“They’re using Her Majesty’s incidents,” Thane said.

“Every window she shatters, every candle that melts, every servant who witnesses an uncontrolled surge—it confirms their narrative.”

There was a heavy pause before he pushed forward. “The Order doesn’t need to fabricate evidence when the Silver Queen’s own magic provides it on a regular basis. The Queen’s power is already a symptom of a deeper corruption that can only be cured by fulfilling the prophecy.”

The room was quiet.

“Then we need to infiltrate harder,” I said. “Place agents inside. Turn existing members. Follow the money—an organization this size requires resources, and resources leave trails.”

My gaze lingered between them a beat longer. “I don’t care how sophisticated their security is, someone somewhere is making a mistake, and when they do, I want us positioned to exploit it.”

The advisors nodded, and the meeting broke apart into organized urgency. I stayed at the table after they left, staring at the map with its constellation of markers indicating confirmed Order activity.

Someone was orchestrating this. Someone with resources, intelligence networks, and an intimate understanding of how to weaponize fear against a regime still finding its footing.

I needed to find that mind soon, because through the bond I could feel Kira fighting a war on two fronts—one against the power inside her that wouldn’t obey, and one against a realm being systematically taught to fear her.

She was strong. But even the strongest walls have limits, and the Order was testing hers with a patience that frightened me more than any open assault ever could.

I gathered the reports and left the war room, and tried not to think about the question I couldn’t answer: what happens when patience runs out and the Order decides that rhetoric isn’t enough?

I needed to know who was behind this. Before it was too late.