Harvey Cromwell's office was quiet.
Too quiet. Too organized. Too controlled. Papers lay perfectly aligned on the mahogany desk, files stacked with military precision, and the steady scratch of a fountain pen moved across a document without pause.
Elena Cromwell sat across from him, unnaturally still. Her eyes were unfocused, staring at a point somewhere beyond the walls.
Harvey noticed immediately.
"Hey… earth to Elena."
No response.
He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "What's going on? You've been staring at nothing for the last five minutes."
Still nothing.
Harvey exhaled, trying to lighten the mood. "Let me guess… Iris?" He offered a small shrug. "Don't overthink it. Kids go through phases after their first shift. Rebellion, confusion… all that."
Elena's fingers tightened slightly on the armrest.
Then she spoke, her voice quiet and flat.
"Luke Ross is back."
The pen slipped from Harvey's hand and clattered loudly onto the desk. He didn't pick it up.
"…What?"
He leaned forward, suddenly alert. "How does he know about Iris?" A beat. "No—forget that." His voice sharpened. "Did he meet you alone?"
Elena shook her head. "No. John was there."
Harvey exhaled, a flicker of relief crossing his face. But it didn't last.
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know."
"He's not at the Oldenberg estate?"
"No."
That bothered him more than he let on. "Do the Oldenbergs know he's back?"
"Not yet." Elena paused. "But I've warned them to stay alert."
Harvey leaned back slowly, fingers steepled as he thought. "His timing has always been terrible for us."
Elena's gaze lowered. "I don't think the Oldenbergs will be able to do anything this time."
Harvey looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"
Elena hesitated—just for a second.
"John was scared," she said. "He hid it well, but I know him. He was scared."
Silence.
"That was the first time…" Her voice dropped. "…I've ever seen him scared."
The words landed heavier than anything else she had said.
Harvey didn't speak immediately. Because if Jonathan Lannister—the royal knight forged into a living weapon—was afraid, then this wasn't merely a situation.
It was a problem.
"You think it was easy last time?" Harvey finally said, voice low. "We only held things together because of Lucian." A pause. "He made it very clear."
His eyes narrowed.
"No one interferes with your authority… until Iris takes her first shift."
Elena closed her eyes briefly.
And just like that, memory pulled her back.
9 years ago
The Hale Estate
The room smelled of medicine and fading life.
The leaders of the Eight Royal Families stood around the grand chamber in heavy silence. No arguments. No open challenges. Only watchful tension.
Lucian Hale lay at the center, propped against pillows, his breathing slow and labored. He was weak—dying—but not broken. His eyes still burned with that sharp, golden awareness that had once belonged to the Great Eyes.
Luke stood to one side. Jonathan on the other. Elena watched from near the foot of the bed.
Lucian shifted slightly, every movement costing him dearly. When he spoke, the entire room listened.
"Enough silence…"
His voice was weak, yet it carried an authority no one dared question.
"You're all waiting for me to name a successor."
No one denied it.
Lucian's gaze moved slowly across the room until it rested on Elena. Then past her, as though seeing something further ahead.
"My successor…" He drew a shallow breath. "…is Iris Hale."
Murmurs erupted instantly.
"She's a child—"
"She hasn't even shifted yet—"
Lucian raised his hand. Barely. Silence returned immediately.
"When she awakens…" A pause. "…she will take the throne."
His eyes hardened.
"That is not a suggestion."
The silence became absolute.
Luke stepped forward slightly. "And until then?"
Lucian's breathing grew slower, but his answer was clear.
"Until then…" His gaze returned to Elena. "…you follow her."
The words were simple. But their meaning was absolute.
Not "rule." Not "become All Alpha."
Follow.
Elena's expression remained composed, but her grip on the bedpost tightened.
Jonathan remained silent, watching everything.
Lucian's eyes softened, just slightly. "No interference." A final, strained breath. "No deviation."
His gaze shifted one last time—to Luke. Something deep and unspoken passed between them.
Then stillness.
Even in death, Lucian Hale had dictated the future.
Back in the present, Elena opened her eyes.
Harvey watched her carefully, the weight of that final order hanging between them like a blade suspended by a thread.
"If Luke is truly moving," Harvey said quietly, "then he's not just challenging you. He's enforcing Lucian's last command."
Elena stared at the desk, jaw tight.
"And if Iris sides with him…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
She didn't need to.
Harvey Cromwell finally picked up his pen.
He turned it once between his fingers, the gold barrel catching the light, then set it down again with deliberate care. His expression had shifted—calm, composed, almost philosophical.
"Listen," he said, tone smooth and controlled. "If one door closes… another opens."
Elena didn't look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the edge of the desk, distant.
"Luke being back doesn't give him authority," Harvey continued. "Not anymore. The Oldenberg family doesn't recognize him. The council doesn't recognize him. And as far as the system is concerned—" A faint, cold smile touched his lips. "He doesn't exist."
Elena's jaw tightened.
"You're assuming this is about authority."
Harvey stopped. That tone wasn't simple frustration. It was memory. Deep, bitter, personal.
"Luke never needed permission," she said.
Silence filled the office.
Elena finally lifted her eyes to meet his.
"He walks in… and people follow. Not because they have to." Her voice dropped. "…because they believe him."
That was the real problem.
Harvey studied her for a long second, then leaned back in his chair once more.
"Belief can be managed," he said. "Influence can be redirected." Another pause. "And problems…" He tilted his head slightly. "…can be removed."
Elena exhaled sharply, frustration breaking through her usual ice.
"I always hated him. To the core." Her fingers tightened on the armrest. "He shows up exactly when things start stabilizing… and tears everything apart."
Harvey didn't argue. He didn't disagree. He simply redirected.
"Then don't fight him head-on."
Elena looked at him, waiting.
"What are you suggesting?"
Harvey tapped the desk lightly with one finger.
"We focus on the banquet." A pause. "The witches are stepping into our world. That's not a coincidence. It's an opportunity."
Elena narrowed her gaze. "You think they can help us deal with Luke?"
Harvey didn't answer right away. He let the idea breathe.
"I think…" he said slowly, "if they're willing to align with wolves… they're willing to do much worse."
Silence settled between them—heavy, calculated.
Elena leaned back slowly, thinking. "You want to use them."
"I want to understand them." Harvey's eyes gleamed with quiet ambition. "And if necessary…" His voice dropped. "…Exploit them."
Elena's expression hardened, a shadow of caution crossing her face.
"And if they're not controllable?"
Harvey picked up his pen again. This time, he didn't drop it.
"Then we make sure…" A deliberate pause. "…they never leave that banquet."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence dressed in silk.
Silence followed.
The kind of silence that meant a decision had just been made.
Harvey returned to his document as though they had merely discussed the weather. Elena remained seated, staring at the man she had married to secure power, wondering—not for the first time—whether she had invited a different kind of monster into her bed.
Outside the window, the lights of Washington glittered like distant stars. Somewhere in the city, Luke Ross moved unseen. Somewhere else, a young girl named Iris was beginning to awaken to her father's legacy.
And soon, at the upcoming banquet, wolves and witches would sit at the same table.
Harvey Cromwell intended to make sure only one side walked away stronger.