Hidden Secrets (editing and improving the story)

Chapter 27 - Council's Visit

Bartholomews' pov:

Within seconds, the clearing was swarming with high-ranking Council wolves and armed guards. Their presence was overwhelming—disciplined, tactical, precise.

"You're surrounded. Raise your hands and surrender. Don't do anything stupid," a deep male voice boomed from the shadows.

Richard and I exchanged a glance, then slowly lifted our hands. Seconds later, a group of tall, broad-shouldered enforcers approached us. Their faces were covered, their movements sharp, methodical. Each of them carried military-grade weapons—sleek, lethal, and familiar. I'd seen them at an international defense expo three months ago. Clearly, the Council had upgraded.

I hadn't expected this—not from them. Not to this extent. They were no longer a passive, advisory body. They were evolving into something else—enforcers of law, and war.

"There's been a misunderstanding! We're innocent!" Richard shouted.

One of the guards stepped forward and slammed a hand into his chest, shoving him hard toward the van. "Shut the hell up," he barked. Then he turned to me, his grip unrelenting as he shoved me in next.

The van door slammed shut behind us.

I shot Richard a hard look and signaled him to stay quiet. He opened his mouth, but I held up a hand. Now wasn't the time for panic.

We couldn't risk saying anything. Not in a Council van. There were eyes and ears everywhere.

My mind raced.

I needed to call Elektra. I had to get my lawyers on this—immediately. So far, they were playing by the book, and that gave me one advantage: the law. And with the right legal team, I could find a loophole, twist the narrative, stall the process—whatever it took.

I wasn't going to jail.

Not without a fight.

Elektra's pov:

-"Where's Father? I checked his office, his room, the entire pack—he's nowhere!" I asked Jordan, my voice sharper than I intended.

"I really don't know," he replied curtly. "He was on the phone with Richard all day yesterday. Maybe he went to visit the Silver Moon Pack."

"For what? The alliance is already finalized," I muttered, more to myself than to him.

"I said I don't know, Elektra," Jordan snapped, then turned and walked away, his frustration obvious. That was unusual. Jordan had always been my father's confidant—his shadow. For him to be left out of something so important meant something was seriously wrong.

It was nearing noon, and I was still in my office, buried under paperwork, when one of the guards knocked.

"Ma'am, a Council representative is here. He says he needs to speak to you—urgently."

"Did he give a reason?" I asked, brows knitting.

"No, ma'am. He said he'll speak only to you."

"Fine. Send him in."

A few minutes later, a tall man stepped into the room. He was dressed in a sharp grey suit, black hair neatly parted to the side. His eyes were like coal—cold, unreadable. He extended his hand, and I shook it out of reflex.

"Good morning, Miss. Are you Elektra, daughter of Alpha Bartholomew?"

"Yes, I am. And you are?"

"Tom Jefferson. I'm a military agent with the Council."

"Nice to meet you, Agent Jefferson. Please, have a seat. Can I offer you anything?"

"A coffee would be appreciated. Black."

He sat stiffly as I poured the coffee. The tension in the room was immediate, thick as fog.

"What brings you here?" I asked, settling across from him.

"Last night, two Alphas were arrested during a large-scale illegal transaction in the forest."

My heart skipped. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"One of them was your father."

His words hit me like a slap.

"No... No, that can't be. My father?" I stared at him, stunned. "You must be mistaken."

"I'm not. Alpha Bartholomew and Alpha Richard of the Silver Moon Pack were caught during a heroin transaction. Over one ton of product. Armed convoy. Buyers on-site."

I stood suddenly, my chair scraping back. "You're wrong. My father isn't... he wouldn't..."

"Miss," he interrupted flatly, "your father is a trafficker, a smuggler, a drug lord. The evidence is irrefutable."

"How dare you?" I snapped, pulse pounding. "You don't know him."

"Sit down," he said calmly, yet firmly. "This is hard—I understand. But revolting against the facts won't change them."

After a long pause, I sat back down, still reeling.

"If you caught him red-handed, why come here? You could have called," I said, voice hollow.

"This goes beyond your father. A significant portion of your pack is implicated. We suspect it's been a front for criminal activity for years."

"That's absurd. Even if what you say about my father is true—which I doubt—what does that have to do with us?"

"Many of his accomplices are members of your pack."

"You didn't arrest them last night?"

"No. That's why I'm here. I have a list of names. I need your permission to begin interrogations."

"Let me see the list."

He handed it to me. I scanned the names—dozens of them. Familiar faces. Friends. Warriors I had trusted. My throat tightened.

"What a great Alpha I'll be," I muttered bitterly. "Oh, Goddess..."

I could barely process it. My father—a criminal. My pack—infested with traitors. Everything I thought I knew was unraveling.

The agent cleared his throat, snapping me back to the moment.

"Ma'am, I'll also require accommodations. I'll be staying here until the investigation concludes."

"Of course," I said numbly. "An omega will escort you to your quarters."

"And I'll need an office."

"You can take mine," I said flatly. "Anything else?"

"Not for now. I'll retire."

I stood and offered my hand again, but he turned without shaking it and walked out. His disdain was palpable. He thought I knew. Thought I was part of it. His judgment weighed on me like a chain.

The days that followed were a blur of exhaustion and humiliation. More Council agents arrived. Interrogations went on until nightfall. I was juggling three lives—trying to find legal defense for my father, managing the pack, and cooperating with a Council that clearly didn't trust us.

Every time someone was found guilty, they were taken away—immediately. The Council wouldn't even allow us to imprison our own.

Resentment festered. Morale dropped. Whispers began to spread.

But what could I say?

My father—our Alpha—was one of the most dangerous criminals in North America.

And I hadn't seen it coming.