SIX HOURS
The convoy left Silverwood at eight fifteen.
Three vehicles carrying the Silverwood delegation. Two carrying the Morryn. Lucian in a separate car already en route to meet us with the three council-adjacent alphas at a location that was not the council building and was not accessible through any communication channel Cavendish monitored.
I sat in the front vehicle beside Roger and watched the spring hills go past and ran through everything I knew.
Cavendish. Nineteen years. A family legacy of bloodline elimination stretching back three generations. An emergency session called for two o'clock that was framed as a review of my appointment but was functionally a move to strip my authority before I could use it.
She was not panicking. People who panicked called emergency sessions
