Kael didn't hesitate.
Escaping now would keep him alive, but it would leave the Agenda intact, allowing them to dismiss his evidence as the ravings of a rogue.
He needed the physical, undeniable proof stored in the main vault.
And for that, he needed Elder Lysandra's key.
He pressed his ear to the heavy door leading from the Ante-Chamber into the Elder's suite. The chirping from the radio had stopped.
The only sound now was the low, steady hum of the fortress power and the gentle, even breathing from within the room. Lysandra was there, undisturbed, likely confident in the security that was now systematically tightening around Kael.
He knew Lysandra's reputation sharp, calculating, and rarely vulnerable.
He had to hit fast and leverage the one thing he possessed that she didn't know he had the truth about the ledger.
He gently turned the knob and pushed the door open, slipping silently into the inner sanctum.
The room was vast, dominated by a huge panoramic window that offered a stunning, perilous view of the churning sea below.
It was half office, half private residence, decorated in muted tones of pearl and slate. The scent of Coastal Cypress was overwhelming here, mixed with a faint, metallic trace of Lycan blood old, dried, and deeply absorbed into the furniture.
Elder Lysandra was seated at a smooth obsidian desk, not panicked, but calmly writing in a separate, smaller journal.
She was an imposing figure, even in repose, with sharp features and a crown of silver braids interwoven with polished jade.
She didn't look up, but her pen stopped mid-stroke.
"The water intake alarm was inconvenient," she stated, her voice smooth and cold.
"But the intrusion was predictable, Kael."
Kael froze, his heart hammering.
"You knew I was here?"
Lysandra finally raised her eyes, which were a glacial shade of blue.
"We didn't know who, but we knew someone would be interested in the contents of the Archive.
Your Alpha's rash policies create too many enemies.
I simply waited for the inevitable.
" She gestured toward the desk drawer.
"My guard is out there, moving into formation.
You have mere minutes before they reach this floor. Put down the dagger and we can discuss a comfortable exile."
"I don't want exile," Kael growled, taking a challenging step forward. "I want the vault key."
"A foolish demand," Lysandra sighed, closing her journal.
"The vault contains everything the true history, the location of the old Pack agreements, and the list of everyone who signed off on the 'genetic purification' agenda. You will never see it."
Kael knew he had to shock her.
He couldn't win a physical fight here, but he could win a fight of wits.
"I've already seen enough," he said, holding her gaze. "I saw the ledger.
The one the scribe was struggling to hide."
Lysandra's cool composure finally fractured. A flicker of genuine surprise—and alarm—passed through her eyes.
Her fingers instinctively moved toward a hidden panic button beneath the desk.
"You're bluffing.
That entry is locked down."
"I read the overwrite, Elder," Kael pressed, leveraging the advantage.
"I know the truth about the so-called Pure Sunstone Lineage." He paused, letting the words sink in.
"I know my lineage is Mixed.
I know my mother was Cypress Valley. And I know your Agenda is nothing more than a paranoid purge built on falsified records."
Lysandra stood up slowly, her dignity reclaiming her terror.
"That information is sealed by Lycan law. You can claim anything."
"I have a photograph," Kael lied, pushing his bluff to the limit.
"The original entry, showing the mixed lineage, is now digitally backed up on a device that is currently outside this fortress. If I don't walk out of here, the truth is broadcast to every Lycan territory in the region."
He knew the Agenda relied on secrecy. The thought of their entire structure being undermined by a verifiable historical record and by the very man they had tried to silence was the only weapon he had.
"The vault key, Elder," Kael stated, his voice tight. "Give me the key.
Let me take the true records, and the secret of your Agenda, and I will vanish.
Your reputation remains intact, and the Pack avoids an internal war."
Lysandra stared at him, hatred mingling with cold calculation.
The air crackled with tension. Outside, a heavy thud signaled a nearby door locking into place.
The final countdown had begun.
"You have given me a choice, Alpha-Slayer," Lysandra murmured, her hand hovering over a hidden lock box on her desk.
"Do I eliminate the threat here and now, or do I sacrifice the key to avoid the immediate, public ruin of our entire government?"
She stared at him, hatred mingling with cold calculation.
The air was heavy, charged with Lycan tension.
Kael could practically hear the systematic, heavy thud of security doors locking down across the fortress.
They had minutes, maybe less than one.
A slow, chilling smile touched the Elder's lips.
"I am a politician before I am a warrior, Kael. And I prefer my ruin to be slow and discreet."
Her hand moved. She didn't press the panic button.
Instead, she activated a smooth, hidden mechanism beneath the obsidian desk. A small, reinforced steel compartment hissed open.
Inside, resting on red velvet, was a single, ancient, tarnished brass key. It was bulky, engraved with symbols Kael didn't recognize, and it radiated a faint, cold power the key to the Vault of True Records.
"You will take the key, Kael," Lysandra instructed, her voice regaining its smooth composure.
You will access the records. But the deal is simple you leave this fortress now, and you do not speak of what you saw in the ledger to anyone outside your immediate, trusted circle.
Kael strode forward and snatched the key. It was cold and heavy in his palm. The weight of centuries of secrets was suddenly his to bear.
"Where is the vault?" he demanded.
"The location is encoded in the markings on the key.
You will only have time to access it before the sweep begins," Lysandra replied, her eyes sharp.
"And be quick, Kael. My personal guard, Commander Valens, is already on this level. He doesn't take orders from me concerning threats to the Alpha."
Kael didn't need any more warning. He turned to leave the suite the way he came, but Lysandra's next words stopped him cold.
"And Kael?" she said, her voice dropping to a silken, venomous whisper.
"The scribe you locked in the utility closet? He was only the bait.
We knew you needed a clear path inside. We prepared a welcoming party for you in the service shaft."
The blood ran cold in Kael's veins. The whole infiltration, the sudden appearance of the scribe, the convenient location of the ledger it hadn't been luck. It had been a controlled environment.
Lysandra had allowed him to get the key, knowing he was walking straight into a pre-set ambush.
He couldn't go back through the Ante-Chamber and the service shaft.
The massive door to Lysandra's suite burst inward, splintering against the wall.
Commander Valens stood framed in the doorway, his Lycan features already sharpening, his clothes tight over bulging muscle.
He had two elite, armed Gamma Enforcers flanking him.
Valens took one look at Kael, covered in filth, holding the key, and roared,
"Intruder! Alpha-Slayer! Don't let him leave the room!"
Lysandra remained seated calmly behind her desk.
"It seems my political options have expired, Kael."
Kael had a choice of two paths: the large, open window overlooking the churning sea, or the small, heavily guarded corridor leading to the rest of the fortress.
He clenched the brass key in his hand, took one last desperate breath of the sterile, safe air, and launched himself toward the only unguarded path the massive panoramic window.
With a crash of tempered glass and a shower of deadly shards, Kael plunged out of the fortress, the cold key clutched in his hand, falling toward the rocky coastline far below.