Chapter 122: Chapter 122

Jonathan stood outside Maren’s office at Whitethorn Academy, his broken ribs wrapped tight beneath his shirt, pain radiating with each breath. The extraction from the safe house to the school had taken four hours, and every bump in the road had been agony. But he’d insisted on coming immediately, on delivering his report in person.

Even his daughter didn’t know he was here and it was much better that way.

Mallory stood beside him, her expression unreadable as always. She’d barely spoken during the drive, her golden eyes fixed on her phone as she coordinated cleanup at the textile mill and tracked the surviving Moonbloods who’d escaped.

The office door opened, and Mrs. Hendricks emerged. "Principal Maren will see you now."

Jonathan straightened despite the pain, refusing to show weakness. He’d failed at the bridge, but the textile mill ambush had been partially successful. That had to count for something.

They entered the spacious office. Maren stood with her back to them, silhouetted against the late afternoon light. She didn’t turn immediately, letting the silence stretch.

"Jonathan," she said finally. "I wasn’t expecting to see you walking so soon after wrapping your car around a bridge."

"I heal fast," Jonathan lied, his ribs screaming in protest.

Maren turned slowly, and Jonathan felt his breath catch. Her silver eyes were cold, assessing, taking in every detail of his battered appearance. The bruises on his face, the careful way he held himself, the slight tremor in his hands from the pain medication wearing off.

"No, you don’t," Maren said flatly. "You’re human, Jonathan. You heal at human speed, which means you should be in a hospital bed for at least another week. Yet here you are, barely able to stand, because you’re desperate to prove your continued loyalty after your spectacular failure."

Jonathan’s jaw tightened. "The bridge was a setback, yes. But the textile mill—"

"Sit down before you fall down," Maren interrupted, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk. "Your stubborn refusal to acknowledge your limitations is just... something else."

Jonathan lowered himself into the chair carefully, each movement calculated. Mallory took the seat beside him, her posture perfect, her face giving nothing away.

Maren settled into her own chair behind the massive desk, her fingers steepled as she studied them. "Mallory, report."

"The textile mill ambush was partially successful," Mallory began. "We confirmed Angela Rivers survived the bridge chase and is working directly with Marcus. We eliminated one of Marcus’s Moonbloods, a female named Cara who had ties to Carla Koker. Two others were critically injured but managed to escape. Marcus himself extracted Angela before we could capture either of them."

"So Angela Rivers is still alive, still has the evidence, and is now even more deeply embedded with the Moonblood resistance," Maren summarized. "Please explain to me how this constitutes ’partial success.’"

"We gathered intelligence," Mallory said smoothly. "We confirmed Marcus has at least seven active operatives willing to engage in combat. We identified three of their vehicles. And we proved that Angela is prioritizing getting the evidence to the Moonblood Council, which means we can anticipate her next move."

"Can we?" Maren’s eyes flicked to Jonathan. "And what role did you play in this intelligence gathering, Jonathan? Beyond serving as bait?"

Jonathan forced his voice to remain steady. "I made contact believable. Angela came because she thought I might be genuinely conflicted, that the crash had changed my perspective. I fed her information about the counseling sessions and the chamber to make the bait more tempting."

"Information that is now in Marcus’s hands," Maren pointed out coldly. "You’ve confirmed for them that we have a chamber beneath the school, that we’re planning a ritual for Bella’s eighteenth birthday, that the counseling sessions are preparation. You’ve given them our entire strategic playbook."

"They already suspected most of it," Jonathan argued. "The USB drive Angela has contains Carla’s journals. She documented everything she knew about Moonblood rituals and your operations. I didn’t reveal anything they wouldn’t have pieced together eventually."

"Eventually is the critical word," Maren said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Every day they spend uncertain is a day we can use to strengthen our position. But now, thanks to your need to make the bait ’believable,’ they have confirmation. They’ll move faster, push harder, potentially force us to accelerate our timeline before we’re fully prepared."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Jonathan could feel sweat beading on his forehead despite the room’s cool temperature. His ribs throbbed in time with his racing heartbeat.

"However," Maren continued, leaning back in her chair, "Mallory is correct that we did gain valuable intelligence. We now know Marcus has limited forces, that Angela is prioritizing the Council over any immediate rescue attempt, and that they’re moving by train rather than car or plane."

Jonathan’s head snapped up. "Train? How do you know that?"

Mallory pulled out her phone, displaying a map with a red dot moving along a rail line. "The message Jonathan sent from his burner phone to Angela contained a tracking code. We’ve been monitoring her phone’s location since the textile mill. She’s currently on a train heading upstate toward the Council’s known territories."

Relief flooded through Jonathan. They hadn’t completely failed. "Then we can intercept them. Hit the train before they reach the Council."

"No," Maren said flatly. "We’re going to let them reach the Council."

Both Jonathan and Mallory stared at her. Mallory recovered first. "Principal Maren, if the Council sees the evidence—"

"Then they’ll mobilize exactly as we expect them to," Maren interrupted. "The Council is predictable. They’re cautious, paranoid, they’ll spend days verifying the evidence and debating whether Bella is worth the risk of open warfare. That debate, that delay, gives us time to complete our preparations."

She stood, moving to the window. "The assembly this morning was the first step. I’ve put every student and faculty member on notice that security is being tightened. Dorm checks every two hours, mandatory attendance at all meals, no off-campus privileges. Bella and her four protectors are now under constant surveillance."

"The boys tried to hide it, but they know something’s wrong," Mallory added. "They’ve been communicating with Bella through notes passed during classes. We’ve intercepted three so far, all discussing how to contact Angela or Marcus."

"Let them communicate," Maren said. "Their desperation is useful. The more cornered they feel, the more likely they are to make a mistake we can exploit." She turned back to face them. "Jonathan, you’re going to remain at the school as a visible presence. Your injuries make you sympathetic, a dedicated father who nearly died trying to protect his daughter from dangerous influences."

Jonathan’s stomach turned. "You want me to approach Bella?"

"Eventually. Not yet, she’d reject you immediately. But in a few days, once the counseling sessions have softened her resistance, once she’s feeling isolated and desperate, you’ll reach out. Claim remorse, claim the crash made you realize how wrong you’ve been. The same performance you gave Angela, but this time with your actual daughter."

"She’ll never believe it," Jonathan said quietly.

"She doesn’t have to believe it completely. She just has to want it to be true." Maren’s smile was cold. "Bella is still a child, Jonathan. Children want their parents’ love, even when those parents don’t deserve it. You’ll exploit that weakness, get close to her, and when the time comes for the ritual, you’ll be the one to bring her to the chamber."

The weight of what Maren was asking settled over Jonathan like a physical thing. Playing betrayer to Angela was one thing, but his own daughter...

"I see hesitation," Maren observed. "Let me be clear, Jonathan. You failed at the bridge. You revealed critical information at the textile mill. Your usefulness to me is hanging by a thread. If you cannot complete this final task, if you cannot deliver Bella to the ritual, then you become a liability I will eliminate."

Jonathan met her silver eyes and saw no mercy there, no room for negotiation. "I’ll do it."

"Good." Maren returned to her desk, pulling out a folder. "Mallory, coordinate with Thorne and Hendricks. I want the chamber prepared within the week. Begin the final phase of the altar’s feeding cycle. Use students if necessary, we have plenty who won’t be missed."

Mallory’s expression flickered, just for a moment, something that might have been discomfort. But she nodded. "How many?"

"Three should suffice. Choose carefully, no one with powerful family connections or close friends who’ll raise immediate alarms. Runaways, scholarship students, the isolated ones." Maren’s voice was clinical, discussing human sacrifice as if it were a supply order. "And Mallory? Make sure Jonathan witnesses at least one feeding. He needs to understand exactly what we’re doing, what Bella’s role will be. No more illusions about protecting his daughter."

Jonathan felt bile rise in his throat but forced it down. "When?"

"Tomorrow night. Consider it your final test of loyalty." Maren dismissed them with a wave. "You’re both excused. Jonathan, see the school nurse about those ribs. You’re no use to me if you collapse from internal bleeding."

They left the office in silence. In the hallway, Mallory finally spoke. "You look like you’re going to be sick."

"I’m fine," Jonathan said through gritted teeth.

"No, you’re not. You’re realizing what you’ve actually committed to. You thought this was about suppressing dangerous Moonbloods, about maintaining order. But it’s always been about power, Jonathan. Maren’s power, specifically. And everyone else, human or Moonblood, is just fuel for that."

"You’re still here," Jonathan pointed out. "Still following her orders."

"Because I’m a survivor. Because I understand that questioning Maren is suicide." Mallory stopped walking, forcing Jonathan to face her. "But you? You still have delusions about redemption, about somehow salvaging a relationship with Bella after all this. Those delusions are going to get you killed."

"What are you saying?"

"I’m saying watch the feeding tomorrow and really see what we’re doing. Then ask yourself if you can actually hand your daughter over for the same fate." Mallory’s golden eyes were unreadable. "And if the answer is no, if you’re going to turn against Maren, do it smart. Because if you try and fail, she’ll make what happened to Carla look merciful."

She walked away, leaving Jonathan alone in the hallway, his body aching and his mind reeling. Tomorrow night he would watch someone die to feed the chamber’s altar. And then he would have to decide if he could condemn Bella to the same death.

Or if, despite everything, despite five years of loyalty to Maren, despite the corruption that had consumed him, there was still some fragment of the man Carla had married. The man who’d held his infant daughter and promised to protect her always. For origınal chapters go to novèlfire.net

Jonathan leaned against the wall, the pain in his ribs nothing compared to the sick certainty settling in his chest. He’d betrayed his wife. He’d hunted his daughter. He’d set a trap for his sister-in-law.

And tomorrow, he’d have to decide if he was going to watch his daughter die, or if he was finally, impossibly, going to try to save her.