Hades' Cursed Luna

Eve

"If the letter is so damning, why not lead with that? Expose the threats from Silverpine Pack and tell them that they should stay indoors in case not submitting to Silverpine's demands makes them trigger-happy and creates victims among the populace," Gallinti asked. "Why the roundabout way? It feels convoluted." Genuine curiosity colored his voice, as though he was actually giving me a chance to change his view on my plan.

I began to speak, just as Victoriana took over. "I will enlighten him, Luna. I see what you see," her voice was assuring.

Victoriana turned to Gallinti fully, her presence filling the chamber more than it already had.

"There are two outcomes if we reveal those letters too soon," she said, her tone even but edged like steel. "First, the people are already agitated. If we show them proof that Silverpine threatens us, they will scatter like startled birds, desperate to flee before the trap closes. And second, suspicion. Doubt. They will whisper the council forged the words—that we created fear to tighten our grip. Either way, panic and mistrust will spill into the streets."

Her voice deepened, deliberate. "And while we are busy choking on that chaos, Silverpine will strike. They will not waste the opportunity—our civilians unshielded, our leaders distracted, reasoning corroded by fear. That is exactly when they will cut us open."

The chamber stilled under her words.

"That," she continued, "is why we do not lead with the letters. We put the people in safety first. We distribute provisions. We build defenses around them. Then—only then—do we allow the media to burn itself out with their conspiracies. An online riot is a contained fire. Smoke, but not death."

She turned her gaze briefly to Eve, then back to Gallinti. "And once the fire is controlled, we drown it. We release the letters. Not as panic in the streets, but as water poured on smoldering embers. The truth will smother the lies because it will arrive at the right moment—when the people are safe enough to believe it."

Her jaw tightened, and she inclined her head slightly toward Eve. "Forgive my bluntness, Luna, but strategy must be spoken plain."

Then her gaze swept the chamber again, sharp as a blade drawn across whetstone.

"If you pour water on a blaze, it hisses and flares hotter. But on a controlled fire? It is extinguished in an instant. That is the difference between survival and ruin. That is why this plan stands."

"It does?" I blurted out in surprise before I could catch myself.

Victoriana faced me again, this time a smirk split her lips. "Who exactly am I to refuse my Luna?" she asked. "It's a brilliant, well-thought-out strategy, and for our current predicament, I highly doubt any other plan can work." Her gaze shifted back to the spectators. "That is unless anyone else has complaints or questions?"

This time, only one hand was raised by a lesser Alpha seated. "I have no complaints nor questions about the plan," he hesitated. "It's about the Alpha. We all know about the rescue mission probably gone awry, so what do we do about his absence?"

That was it.

The elephant in the room.

The lump in my throat, the ache in my chest, the bitterness that lingered on my tongue. Though I had faith, it was a little balm to my nerves—but for now, it was enough. It had to be.

"A rescue of the Alpha and his men has been underway since the first day," that had been protocol. "And our trackers are working on getting a signal on the devices they took with them. But the comms are off, so for now we remain in the dark." I tried to detach myself from the dreaded words of the report I had gotten back, refusing to show just how much his absence affected me.

A low murmur rippled through the chamber at my words, sharp with unease. The mention of the Alpha's absence was a wound they all tried not to touch, but one they felt bleeding beneath every strategy, every order.

The lesser Alpha who had spoken lowered his gaze, but his voice still carried. "With all due respect, Luna… the civilians will not wait long before they start to wonder if he is gone for good. And if that seed grows…"

I straightened, spine taut, forcing my voice into steel though the ache in my chest threatened to drag it down. "That seed does not get to grow. Not here. Not now. The Alpha is not gone. A rescue mission is underway, and until proof exists otherwise, we speak as though he still leads. Because he does."

The words scraped my throat raw, but they held. They had to.

Victoriana stepped forward, her presence commanding enough to smother the chamber's murmurs. "You heard your Luna," she said, voice resonant. "Our Alpha's absence is temporary, nothing more. The enemy would revel in us doubting, fracturing, turning on ourselves before a single blade is drawn. And I, for one, will not hand Darius that victory on a silver platter."

"Daddy will come back," Elliot squeaked from the front. "I know he will." His eyes shone with hope as his gaze grounded me.

I smiled at him, a thank you.

"You heard the Luna and of course the princeling." Victoriana's eyes swept the chamber, pinning each Governor, each Ambassador, each Alpha in place. "If you have doubts, bury them. If you have fear, sharpen it into readiness. But if you let it fester into weakness, then you are already his pawn."

Silence fell again, heavier this time. The kind of silence that came not from indecision, but from reluctant agreement.

I drew in a breath, steadying the tremor that wanted to betray me. "Our Alpha will return. Until then, I will ensure Obsidian stands. With or without him."

Montegue's gaze caught mine across the chamber, unreadable, but the faintest incline of his head told me he understood the weight of what I had just claimed.

Victoriana broke the stillness, her tone final. "Then it is decided. The plan moves forward. The lockdown. The provisions. The Gammas. And the broadcast when the time comes."