The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 131

Cassius

"They found the lab." Father's voice crackles through the secure line, his usual control slipping just enough to reveal genuine concern. "Your pet project has been compromised."

I lean back in my chair, swirling aged whiskey as I consider this development. "How much did they see?"

"Everything. The mutants. The formulas. The targeting protocols."

A prickle of irritation surfaces, but I maintain my composed facade. "And you let them leave with this information?"

"The female... her powers have evolved beyond our models. She claims to have memorized everything. All data. All formulas." Now Father sounds truly disturbed. "This development wasn't in any of our projections."

Of course it wasn't. Their projections are based on ancient fears and outdated models. They've never truly understood what makes Sage special. What makes her... perfect.

"The council will be convening an emergency session," Father continues. "We need to prepare our position, reframe the narrative before—"

"Let me worry about the council." I interrupt smoothly. "Focus on securing the remaining research. The secondary site remains uncompromised?"

"For now. But if she can truly sense the corruption..."

"I'll handle it." I end the call before he can object further.

Alone in my sanctuary, I allow myself a moment of genuine amusement. Poor Father, still believing this is about preserving natural order. About protecting wolf-kind from dangerous abilities. So devoted to traditions and hierarchies he can't see the true potential right before him.

The monitors surrounding me display various feeds – the secondary research facility where development continues, surveillance on key council members, and most importantly, images of Sage. Her power signature readings from the poisoning incident glow on another screen, data that tells a story these old fools could never comprehend.

The poison wasn't meant to kill her. Not really. It was a catalyst, designed to force her powers to adapt. To evolve. And despite minor setbacks in timing and execution, it worked beautifully.

Her abilities now extend beyond simple healing. Beyond the limitations that kept ancient healing packs vulnerable to extinction. She can analyze, memorize, understand at the most fundamental level. Precisely as the models predicted.

Phase one: Complete.

I trace my finger over her image on the screen. So powerful, yet still has no idea what she's truly capable of. What she was born to become.

The fools who raised me, who indoctrinated me with their small-minded fears about healing bloodlines – they've wasted generations trying to eliminate these abilities. Never once considering the alternative: control them. Harness them. Own them.

My secure tablet alerts me to an incoming transmission. Eris, right on schedule.

"The Northern territories are in chaos," she reports without preamble. "Accusations, denials. The council prepares to formally censure me."

"Let them." I dismiss her political concerns. "Did you complete the task?"

"Yes. The samples are secure. But moving forward with Phase Two after they've discovered the lab—"

"Is precisely what we'll do." I cut her off. "Their discovery changes nothing except timing. If anything, it accelerates our plans."

Her skepticism radiates even through the encrypted connection. "They'll be vigilant now. Protected."

"They'll be predictable now." I correct. "Alaric will focus on the council, on rooting out conspirators. On politics." My contempt for such mundane concerns drips from every word. "While we focus on what truly matters."

On my main screen, simulation models run complex scenarios – projections of how corruption can be refined, targeted, controlled. How certain abilities can be not just suppressed but transferred. Absorbed. Claimed.

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