SERAPHINA’S POV
As we walked out of OTS, the building behind us felt different.
The sa glass façade caught the late afternoon light, the sa steel frawork held steady against the skyline, the sa quiet hum of systems ran beneath it all—but sothing fundantal had shifted.
I didn’t stop walking until we reached the edge of the lot, the small group that had chosen to follow trailing close behind.
I could feel them there without turning—the weight of their decision, the quiet gravity of it settling into place now that there was no going back.
It wasn’t a large group, but as I finally slowed and glanced back, I recognized most of the faces.
Not the peripheral mbers who ca and went with projects, but the ones who had built things from the ground up, who had been here long before .
The core mbers who understood how OTS functioned beneath the surface—the systems, the networks, the things that couldn’t simply be written down and handed over.
It didn’t lessen what we had lost.
But it ant we hadn’t lost everything.
“Alright,” I said, coming to a halt.
The city stretched behind . The distant traffic noise blended into the background. Here, in this mont, it felt as if we stood in a pocket of stillness, isolated from everything else.
They all watched expectantly.
“First,” I continued, “housing.”
A few of them exchanged glances.
“You said Nightfang and Frostbane,” one of them—Elliot—said carefully.
“I did.”
“But that’s not exactly...” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “Neutral.”
That was the problem.
Most of them had chosen OTS because it wasn’t tied to pack politics, because it existed outside that structure entirely.
Asking them to step into it now—even temporarily—was a compromise that ca with weight.
“I’m aware,” I said.
Silence stretched again, thinner this ti, edged with sothing more uncertain.
Before it could deepen, Judy stepped in.
“Most of us already have places,” she said, glancing around the group. “Apartnts, shared housing. We’re not exactly starting from nothing.”
A few nods followed.
That eased sothing tight in my chest.
“Then we don’t force relocation,” I said, adjusting quickly. “We centralize operations instead.”
“Where?” Roxy asked.
That answer ca easier.
“There’s a house I’ve been renting in a neutral zone,” I said. “It’s big enough to function as a temporary base. etings, coordination, storage for anything we recover from OTS.”
Judy’s brows lifted. “You’re offering it?”
I nodded. “I’ll buy it outright, and it will serve as a base while we figure things out.”
“You sure about that?” Roxy asked.
“It’s faster than trying to establish sothing new from scratch,” I said.
We didn’t have the luxury of ti—or options.
“Alright,” Judy said, nodding once. “Then we start there.”
The group shifted as sothing like direction began to take shape out of the uncertainty.
It wasn’t stability.
But it was progress.
***
The house felt smaller than I rembered.
Or maybe it was just fuller.
People moved through the space in quiet, purposeful patterns—setting things down, clearing surfaces, opening laptops, checking connections.
The energy wasn’t chaotic, but it wasn’t settled either. It hovered sowhere in between.
I stood just inside the doorway for a mont longer than necessary, watching it unfold.
This was what we had left. What OTS had been reduced to.
“Okay,” Judy’s voice cut through the low hum of activity as she moved toward the center of the room. “We need structure before this turns into organized confusion.”
A few quiet huffs of agreent followed.
“Agreed,” I said, stepping forward. “Judy, you handle coordination. Internal communication, task assignnt, tracking who’s where and doing what.”
She blinked. “?”
I nodded. “You can do it. I trust you.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, sothing like reluctant acceptance settling into her expression.
“Fine,” she muttered.
“See if you can get a hold of Finn and Talia,” I added. I knew they’d both taken leave of absence to see their families. “We could use their help.”
She nodded. “Already texted them.”
“Roxy,” I continued, turning to her, “logistics. Equipnt, materials, anything we manage to pull out of OTS. Inventory, transport, setup.”
Roxy gave a short nod. “On it.”
I paused, letting my gaze move over the rest of them.
“This is temporary,” I said. “We stabilize first. Then we figure out what cos next.”
“And you?” soone called from the back, their voice cutting through the noise.
I didn’t answer imdiately.
Because there wasn’t a clean answer to give.
“I’ll be involved when needed,” I said finally.
A flicker of sothing passed through a few of their expressions.
Not outright disagreent.
But not satisfaction either.
“You’re not staying with us?” Elliot pressed, more direct this ti.
“I’ll do my best to—”
“Because your loyalty is with your pack,” soone—Vanessa—interjected. “We’re just an afterthought.”
“Look, I stepped in because soone had to,” I said. “Because what happened today shouldn’t have happened the way it did. Because OTS matters.”
“I know what that place ant to you,” I continued. “What it still ans.”
My gaze flicked toward the direction of the city—toward the building we had just walked away from.
“And I know what it ant to Lucian.”
That was where my voice tightened. “He didn’t build OTS just to sell it off like a commodity.”
Soone scoffed. “The last couple of hours beg to differ.”
No.
That didn’t fit.
Not with the man I knew.
Not with the way he had run things.
Sothing had happened.
Sothing we weren’t seeing yet.
“I don’t believe this was his choice,” I said. “And you shouldn’t either. Until I know what happened, I’m not stepping into a role that assus he’s gone.”
Understanding flickered across a few faces; resistance across others.
“I’m not replacing him,” I said. “I’m holding the line till he returns.”
What I did not add was that being tied too closely to right now could put them all in even more danger.
Because if this wasn’t random—if this was connected to everything else unfolding—then proximity wasn’t protection.
“And the ones who stayed behind?” Judy asked softly.
I exhaled.
“They’ll keep OTS running,” I said. “They know how.”
Even without Lucian or .
“But if things go wrong,” I said, my gaze steady now, “they reach out. And we respond.”
“We don’t abandon OTS,” I finished. “Not now. Not ever.”
That settled sothing.
Judy nodded once, more firmly this ti.
“Alright,” she said, raising her voice enough to be heard by the whole room. “Let’s get to work.”
***
By the ti I made it to Maya’s car later that evening, the adrenaline had worn off.
I sank into the passenger seat, letting my head fall back against it for a brief second before I forced my eyes open again.
Maya was not calm.
“What the fuck is up with Lucian?” she demanded, her voice tight, on the edge of snapping.
I groaned. “I can’t even begin to unpack that train of thought.”
She exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
“I don’t like it,” she said.
“I know.”
“There’s sothing off about all of this.”
“I know.”
The silence that followed was heavy as I tried to connect pieces that didn’t quite fit yet.
Why had Lucian done this? Who were those people? How was I supposed to lead what was left of OTS?
My phone buzzed.
I didn’t need to check to know it was Kieran.
Sothing in my chest tightened as I pulled it out and unlocked it.
I read the ssage once.
Then again.
The exhaustion that had overwheld evaporated, replaced by sothing sharper. Colder.
Maya glanced at . “What is it?”
I didn’t answer imdiately.
I read the ssage yet again.
Because I needed to be sure I wasn’t misreading it.
I wasn’t.
“The company that acquired OTS is connected to Jack fucking Draven.”
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