The report comes just before nightfall.
Not shouted.
Not panicked.
Quiet.
Careful.
Like the words themselves might trigger something.
Dean stands across from Jack in the war room, his posture rigid.
“There’s talk,” he says.
Jack doesn’t look up right away. “There’s always talk.”
Dean doesn’t move. “Not like this.”
That’s what makes Jack lift his head.
Slowly.
“What kind of talk?”
A pause.
The kind that says you’re not going to like this.
“Some of the outer packs…” Dean begins, choosing his words carefully, “they’re questioning you.”
Jack’s expression doesn’t change.
But the air in the room does.
“On what grounds?” he asks, his voice too calm.
Dean exhales. “They’re saying… if what happened to Samantha is true—if there’s something inside her—then keeping her as Luna is a
