The Council demanded a public appearance.
Instead, they received only silence.
Justin’s public absence had now stretched into its third week, and the realm was starting to fracture in earnest. Rumors spread like wildfire across every territory: the Supreme Alpha was dead. He was dying. He had been overthrown. He had been ensnared by a dangerous omega surgeon who now pulled his strings like a puppet.
I let the rumors breathe.
I even fed a few of them myself.
At 0900, I stood in the central command room, watching the live broadcasts from the capital square. The Council had been forced to issue a vague statement: “The Supreme Alpha is recovering from an undisclosed illness under the care of the Black Veil Clinic. He remains in stable condition.”
The words tasted like victory on my tongu
