“He murdered a child.”
“He wants us enraged!”
“I am enraged.”
Silence slams down.
The baby pulses faintly.
Not fear.
Not instability.
Resolve.
Ashcroft thinks cutting a child will provoke uncontrolled divine eruption.
He thinks grief equals rupture.
He thinks I will burn.
But I won’t.
Not for him.
Not on his terms.
“Kade,” I say quietly.
“Yes.”
“We don’t erupt.”
“No.”
“We intervene.”
“Yes.”
“We don’t converge.”
“No.”
“We end him.”
The words settle heavy and final.
Not revenge.
Containment.
Extinction of extinction.
The strike team assembles in less than twenty minutes.
Not half the pack.
Not an army.
Just precision.
Kade.
Kieran.
Morgan.
Thorne.
Two elite warriors.
And me.
Helena’s voice follows us through comms.
“If you do this, Council protection eva
