Sinclair leaned over the back of the sofa in his quest suite, his hands clenched into white-knuckle fists around the frame. His phone lit up on the table before him; Gabriel’s name glowed on the screen. Hugo and the Black Alder Alpha, Callahan, stood beside him, their expressions somber. "Talk to me. What do we know?"

"It's bad, Dom," the Vanaran King reported. "My spies say all signs point to utter ruin. Civilians are fleeing the territories en masse, and the governments they leave behind are scrambling. The packs have fallen to Damon, and the human regimes are considering extreme action to hold off the invasion."

"Do they not realize what they're up against?" Sinclair demanded. "After all, the upper echelons of government have always known the secret; they know how far ahead our societies are."

"And they've been planning contingencies," his father interjected. "Sovereigns from other continents are offering aid. There's been talk of employing weapons of mass destruction… of secret laboratories working for decades on projects to develop next-generation arms capable of combating our own. They've been preparing for this eventuality since day one."

"And what have they come up with? Any weapon deadly to shifters will also be lethal to humans," Sinclair reminded them.

Philippe revealed, "From what we can tell, even the best of their labs haven't come close to matching the sophistication of our technology. They're at least fifty years behind. But that's less important than the likelihood that they'll deploy them anyway. Some we can stop and neutralize; others we can shield against. But there are others we cannot defend against once deployed; we can only try to mitigate the damage."

"I'm afraid things are reaching the point where the humans may very well decide to abandon their own people under Damon's rule, to take him out once and for all," Gabriel cautioned, answering the second part of Sinclair's question. "They see them as lost causes, collateral damage."

"That's unconscionable," Sinclair snarled. "What kind of leader would contemplate killing their subjects so indiscriminately, as if they're nothing more than pawns in a larger game?"

"It's containment," Ella chimed in, her sweet voice clashing with the harsh words. "They're panicking and want to fight fire with fire. Damon isn't holding back, regardless of the impact on the shifters under his rule, and the humans are faced with the choice between losing some of their population or having the entirety enslaved."

"As we said," Roger sighed, "things are worse than we ever feared."

"Are the pathways out of the continent still open?" Sinclair inquired, trying to quell his wolf's rabid energy. "Are we still able to bring refugees to Vanara?"

"We need more planes," his father replied. "One trip a day isn't enough anymore, and we need to allocate more funding to support them once they arrive."

"Authorize it," Sinclair ordered, knowing his voice sounded harsh and biting but unable to help it. "Has there been any word from packs on other continents? What of the rebellion?"

"Dom, our spies are reporting the same intel as Gabriel's," Roger shared. "The rebellion is all but in shambles… there's a strong undercurrent of anger and hope among our allies back home… they're eager to fight, but right now our biggest concern is ensuring they live to fight another day."

"We've had word from the Veran King," Gabriel added, referring to the continent west of Vanara. "He's eager to speak with you. Things haven't devolved to violence there or in Sevka, but the humans are in an uproar around the world. They're anxious about our future… they're willing to offer any help they can to get this under control."

"Thank the Goddess for that," Sinclair breathed, though he had no idea how to manage such a thing. The only thing that came to mind was inventing a time machine and going back to kill Damon before he could put his diabolical plans in motion. If he hadn't been such a noble fool, they could have avoided all this.

"What are your orders, Alpha?" Philippe inquired, his voice full of belief that Sinclair would have an answer. Sinclair was grateful but at a loss.

"Ella?" Sinclair asked, wishing he could see her. "You know the ways of humans far better than we do. Do you have any thoughts?"

There was a short pause, and then her silken voice floated from the device. "People are afraid, and right now they see us as their enemies… as monsters from horror films, all cut from the same cloth as Damon. I think the best thing we can do is show them that they aren't suffering alone. Show them that Damon doesn't reflect all shifters, and that our people want him out of power as much as they do." Another pause, and Sinclair could imagine his mate's beautiful face scrunched up in deep thought. "I think we should extend our rescue operations to include human civilians. Reach out to every state and local government you can to offer aid—money or resources—and publicize it. We need shifter allies, but I think human allies might be even more urgent now."

"Well put," his father praised. "We need to combine PR with diplomacy and hard-line action. This isn't just our fight anymore."

"Do it," Sinclair agreed. "I trust you all. Authorize whatever funds and resources we can, and put out feelers to contacts throughout the continent. Forward me any correspondence for approval before sending it out, and have our spies start spreading the word on the ground. Half of Damon's strategy is propaganda and fear-mongering; we can counter it with a whisper campaign of our own. Don't let people lose hope; don't let Damon convince them we're enemies. Print up flyers supporting the rebellion if we need to; whatever it takes."

There were a few mumbled agreements, and when a hush fell, Sinclair turned his attention to the person he most wanted to speak with. "Can I have a minute alone with my mate, please?" he requested, though it was actually an order. He listened as the men on Ella's end of the line shuffled out, and waited for the Black Alder Alpha and Hugo to leave as well.

When they were finally alone, he asked, "How are you holding up, trouble?"

"I'm a little overwhelmed," she admitted in a soft voice. "I never imagined this could happen."

"I don't think any of us believed Damon would be so reckless," Sinclair shared, feeling more at ease now that they could speak one-on-one. "I always knew it would be a disaster if he came to power, but I have to confess this is so much worse than I feared." He didn't add that he hated not being able to fix it, because she already knew. "I need to see you tonight."

"I'll try my best," Ella promised with true longing, as though she wanted nothing more. "I've just been so tired with all the summit planning and the refugees. I'm out the second my head hits the pillow."

"I know, baby," he sighed, feeling guilty even though he knew a dream date would comfort them both. "I suppose I shouldn't keep you half awake in dreams all night anyway… I just miss you."

"I miss you too, so does Rafe," Ella related. "He asks for you—in his own way—about ten times a day."

"Maybe I can record some purrs for you both, so it can feel like I'm there even when I'm not," Sinclair suggested.

Ella's breath caught, and Sinclair wondered if she'd been struggling even more than she admitted. "I'd love that."

"Then it's done. As soon as we're off the phone," he vowed, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of their call talking about each other and their pup, but knowing there was still some business left to cover. "How are plans for the summit going?"

"Well, for the most part," Ella reported. "Everyone's looking forward to the ball, and Roger is helping me plan some especially sneaky events to win over the reluctant Alphas. Though we're going to have to re-evaluate a few things now." She paused, sounding wistful. "And the Black Alder pack?"

"Alpha Callahan was reluctant to join us this morning," Sinclair said ruefully, "but it seems he's had a change of heart. What with the pact being broken, the Alphas here are going to be much more motivated to help us now, as shifters living among humans are probably going to be looking for an escape—and what better place than the hidden territories?" He glanced at the door, recalling the tense conversation he'd shared with the Black Alder Alpha over breakfast. "Vanara is the last place on earth shifters can exist in secret now, and for the first time in the history of the hidden territories, their own society is at risk because of events in the rest of the world. It's an important wake-up call."

"Then maybe some good can come out of all this pain," Ella assessed sorrowfully.

"I hope so," Sinclair agreed, wishing he could wrap his arms around her, breathe in her wonderful scent. "But for now we just have to wait and see. This is a new world we're living in, and if we can save it, then it will be up to us to build a new, hybrid society unlike anything before seen in history."

"And if we can't?" his precious mate squeaked.

"I'm not going to let that happen, Ella," Sinclair remarked firmly. "I'll die first."