Luna. Chapter 185

(Kael's POV)

The memory was crystal clear, even a year later.

Cassius had been so confident when we surrounded him in that abandoned warehouse outside the city. So certain that his royal connections would protect him from consequences.

He'd been wrong.

"You can't do this," he'd said, backing against the concrete wall while my fighters closed in around him. "I'm under royal protection. I have immunity."

"Immunity from what?" I'd asked, genuinely curious about his reasoning.

"From vigilante justice. From pack law. From whatever primitive revenge fantasy you think you're entitled to."

The arrogance in his voice had been breathtaking. Even captured, outnumbered, and facing certain defeat, he still believed his position made him untouchable.

That kind of institutional confidence didn't develop overnight. It came from years of being protected by systems that prioritized rank over justice. Years of watching his actions defended by people who valued stability over truth.

"Tell me about the experiments," I'd said instead of responding to his legal arguments.

"What experiments?"

"The ones you've been running on captured werewolves. The ones where you try to extract supernatural abilities and transfer them to human subjects."

His face had gone pale. Not just surprise. Recognition. Fear that his secrets were being exposed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Marcus, show him the photos."

Marcus had pulled out a tablet, swiping through images we'd recovered from a raided facility. Pictures of surgical tables, medical equipment, and things I didn't want to think about too closely.

Laboratory settings that looked more like torture chambers. Restraint systems designed to hold supernatural subjects immobile during procedures. Monitoring equipment to track vital signs during what could only be described as vivisection.

The worst part wasn't the equipment. It was the documentation. Charts tracking subject responses. Notes about which procedures produced the most useful data. Spreadsheets organizing test subjects by species and ability type.

Clinical. Professional. Systematic.

Cassius's confident expression had cracked just enough to confirm what we'd suspected.

"Even if such research existed," he'd said carefully, "it would be for the greater good. For the advancement of medical science. For the protection of human populations against supernatural threats."

"By torturing innocent people?"

"By understanding our enemies."

That had been the moment I realized negotiation was impossible. Cassius wasn't just following orders or making political calculations. He genuinely believed that supernatural creatures were subhuman.

In his mind, we weren't people with rights and feelings. We were specimens to be studied. Problems to be solved. Threats to be neutralized.

"You're not walking away from this," I'd told him.

"You can't kill me. Too many people know where I am. Too many people will ask questions."

He'd been partially right. Killing a high-ranking government official would have brought more heat than we could handle at the time.

But there were other options.

"We're not going to kill you," I'd said. "We're going to make you useful."

The memory of his confused expression still made me smile.

For the past year, Cassius had been feeding us intelligence about government operations. Not voluntarily, of course. But supernatural interrogation techniques could be very persuasive when applied correctly.

Every troop movement. Every supply shipment. Every strategic meeting. Every policy change. Every personnel decision.

He'd given us everything we needed to stay one step ahead of Adrian's forces.

The information had been invaluable for planning sabotage operations. We'd disrupted supply lines before they reached their destinations. We'd evacuated targets before raids could be executed. We'd intercepted communications that revealed future plans.

But more than tactical intelligence, Cassius had provided insight into the psychological framework driving government policy.

His casual dehumanization of supernatural subjects wasn't personal hatred. It was institutional doctrine. A systematic worldview that classified non-human sentience as inherently threatening.

Understanding that mindset had helped us develop more effective counter-strategies. We knew what kind of actions would be interpreted as aggressive versus defensive. We knew what kind of targets would trigger massive retaliation versus measured response.

And tonight, that information was going to help us end this war.

The irony was perfect. Cassius's own intelligence would be used to defeat the system he'd served so faithfully.

Justice had a beautiful symmetry sometimes.

I checked my watch. Ninety minutes to final assault.

Time to make his year of unwilling cooperation count for something.

In the corner of the command bunker, our communications specialist was monitoring government radio frequencies. The chatter had been increasing all day, suggesting they knew something was coming.

But they didn't know what. They didn't know when. They didn't know where.

Thanks to Cassius, we understood their defensive preparations better than they understood our offensive capabilities.

"Sir," Marcus called from across the room. "We're getting reports of unusual activity at the main government complex."

"What kind of activity?"

"Troop movements. Defensive positioning. They're definitely preparing for something."

"Are they responding to intelligence leaks, or are they just being cautious?"

"Hard to say. But the patterns match what Cassius described during his debriefings."

I studied the tactical display, comparing current government positions to the defensive scenarios we'd extracted from our unwilling informant.

Everything matched perfectly.

Which meant either Cassius had been telling the truth about government protocols, or this was an elaborate trap designed to lure us into a predetermined killing zone.

Only one way to find out.

"All units, prepare for final approach. We go in thirty minutes."

Tonight would prove whether a year of careful planning and strategic patience had been enough to overcome superior numbers and institutional advantages.

Tonight would prove whether justice was stronger than power.

Tonight would prove whether Cassius's year of forced cooperation would finally balance the scales for all the people he'd hurt.