Chapter 230: 230 Summit Preparation

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230: Summit Preparation 230: Summit Preparation “Maybe.

Or maybe this person is feeding us misinformation to make us paranoid, to second-guess attending.” Milla met Mishka’s eyes.

“I don’t know if this is legitimate or psychological warfare.

But I thought you should know.”

Mishka forwarded the message to Director Chen with a brief explanation, then to Duncan for analysis.

Within the hour, Chen responded: ‘Message received.

Covenant security is investigating.

Summit will proceed with enhanced precautions.

Trust no one outside the core delegation.’

Trust no one.

That was what they’d been reduced to.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of preparation.

Mishka packed for a trip she desperately didn’t want to take, leaving her home vulnerable.

Bruce coordinated with his pack, making sure there would be werewolves on patrol at all times.

Emma spent hours with Mrs.

Pemberton, pouring everything she knew about the networked ward system into hastily scribbled notes and diagrams.

Julian turned Eldergrove into a fortress.

Additional cameras were installed.

Patrol routes were randomized.

An emergency communication system was established so residents could alert security with a single button press on their phones.

As evening fell, Mishka found herself walking through Eldergrove’s streets, perhaps for the last time.

The thought was melodramatic, she knew, but she couldn’t shake it.

The houses glowed with warm light.

Children played in yards under watchful parental eyes.

Tom was grilling in his backyard, the smell of barbecue a comforting constant.

It looked like any other suburban community.

Peaceful.

Safe.

Normal.

But underneath, Mishka could feel the wards Emma had strengthened, could sense the security systems Julian had installed, could see the careful way residents watched each other and the streets, always alert for threat.

They were living in a beautiful illusion of normalcy, and any moment it could shatter.

Bruce found her at the community park, sitting on a bench overlooking the playground where Emma had first demonstrated her Resonant abilities, what felt like a lifetime ago.

“Second thoughts about Montreal?” he asked, settling beside her.

“About leaving, yes.

About going, no.

We need that summit.

We need to coordinate with other communities.” Mishka leaned into his warmth.

“I just hate that going means leaving Eldergrove vulnerable.”

“Mikhail and Mrs.

Pemberton are more capable than you give them credit for.

They were protecting this community before you arrived.

They’ll manage while we’re gone.”

“I know.

I just—” Mishka’s phone buzzed.

Another message.

She almost ignored it, but the sender made her look: ‘Mikhail Kovač.’

‘Come to my house immediately.

Alone.

I have information about the revelation Jean mentioned.

You need to hear this before the summit.’

Mishka showed Bruce the message.

His expression darkened.

“I don’t like this.

‘Come alone’?”

“Which means he might know secrets worth protecting.

Secrets worth killing to keep hidden.” Bruce stood.

“If you’re going, I’m coming with you.”

“He said alone.”

“I don’t care.

I’m not letting you walk into a potential trap by yourself.”

They compromised.

Bruce would wait outside Mikhail’s house, close enough to intervene if needed but giving Mishka privacy for the conversation.

Mikhail’s home was one of the oldest in Eldergrove, a Victorian mansion that had been in his family for three generations.

He answered the door himself, his silver eyes sharp and assessing.

“Ms.

Volkov.

I see you brought Mr.

Thornton despite my request.”

“He’s waiting outside,” Mishka said.

“What information do you have about Jean’s revelation?”

Mikhail gestured her inside, leading her to a study lined with books and artifacts.

On a heavy wooden desk sat a leather journal, aged and worn.

“This belonged to Clara Eldergrove,” Mikhail said, touching the journal reverently.

“My grandmother was her closest friend and confidant.

When Clara died, she left certain documents with my family for safekeeping.

Documents that reveal the true history of this community’s founding.”

Mishka felt a chill.

“What true history?”

“Clara didn’t just create Eldergrove as a sanctuary for supernatural beings,” Mikhail said slowly.

“She created it as a prison.”

The call from Director Chen came the morning after the Council of Families meeting, while Eldergrove was still reeling from the revelation about the binding magic and the families who’d chosen to leave.

Mishka was in her kitchen, staring at a cup of coffee she’d forgotten to drink, when her phone rang.

“Mishka, the Covenant Council has made a decision,” Chen said without preamble.

“We want you to represent Eldergrove at the emergency summit in Montreal.

You’ve become the face of the integration movement, whether intentionally or not.

Your testimony about what’s happening on the ground will carry significant weight.”

“When?” Mishka asked, though part of her wanted to refuse.

Leaving Eldergrove now, with everything in chaos, felt like abandonment.

“Three days from now.

I know the timing is terrible, but we can’t wait.

Communities are falling faster than we can respond.

We need to coordinate our defense, and we need to do it immediately.”

After Chen hung up, Mishka sat in silence, processing.

Three days to prepare for what would essentially be a political summit—something she had zero experience with.

She was an engineer, not a diplomat.

She designed electrical systems, not policy.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Gillian: ‘Heard about the summit.

You’re going to need help preparing.

Come over?’

An hour later, Mishka sat in Gillian’s living room, surrounded by her best friend’s organized chaos of financial documents, legal pads, and three different laptops.

“Okay,” Gillian said, pulling up a presentation on her main screen.

“Political negotiations 101.

You need to understand who the players are, what they want, and what leverage you have.”

“I don’t have any leverage,” Mishka protested.

“I’m just—”

“You’re the leader of the most visible integration community in North America.

You survived an assassination attempt by Jean Rousseau.

You have a Resonant who’s already revolutionizing ward magic.

And you just revealed that Eldergrove has been hiding a massive secret for a century.” Gillian fixed her with a sharp look.

“Trust me, you have leverage.

The question is how you use it.”

They spent hours going over likely scenarios.

Other communities would be angry about the binding revelation—Gillian helped Mishka craft responses that acknowledged the wrong while emphasizing Eldergrove’s commitment to fixing it.

Some delegates would want to abandon integration entirely—Mishka needed talking points about why scattering would make them more vulnerable, not less.

“What about Jean’s countdown?” Mishka asked.

“Twenty-four days left.

Everyone’s going to want to know what she’s planning.”

“And you’re going to tell them you don’t know, but you’re working with every resource available to find out.” Gillian made notes.

“Don’t pretend to have answers you don’t have.

These people are scared and angry.

They’ll smell bullshit from a mile away.

Be honest, be direct, and show them you’re taking the threat seriously.”

Bruce arrived in the afternoon, having been summoned by a text from Mishka.

He still wasn’t meeting her eyes, the hurt from learning about his family’s binding creating a wall between them.

“Chen wants you at the summit too,” Mishka said carefully.

“As Eldergrove’s security consultant and as a representative of the supernatural community’s newer members.”

“I’m going regardless,” Bruce said flatly.

“If you think I’m letting you walk into a room full of desperate, frightened supernatural beings—some of whom might blame you personally for Jean’s attacks—without protection, you’re out of your mind.”

It wasn’t said with affection.

It was said with grim duty.

But Mishka would take what she could get.

“We need to prepare you for the political aspects,” Gillian said, ever practical.

“Bruce, you’re going to be questioned about the binding.

About whether you knew.

About what it means for werewolf integration efforts.”

“I didn’t know,” Bruce said, his voice tight.

“My family didn’t know.

We’re victims in this too.”

“I know that.

You know that.

But you’re going to have to say it out loud, repeatedly, to people who are looking for someone to blame.” Gillian’s tone was gentle but firm.

“Mishka’s going to take most of the heat as Eldergrove’s representative, but they’ll come for you too.”

The next two days were a blur of preparation.

Gillian drilled Mishka on responses to hostile questions.

Duncan provided intelligence briefings on known threats and Jean’s likely strategies.

Julian coordinated security arrangements with the Covenant, insisting on additional protection for both Mishka and Emma.

Because Emma was going too.

“Absolutely not,” Patricia Henderson had said when Chen made the request.

But Emma had already made up her mind.

“The Covenant needs to know how I modified the wards,” Emma explained to her parents in Mishka’s living room, where they’d gathered to discuss the proposal.

“If other communities can implement the same networked system, they’ll be safer.

Mrs.

Pemberton can’t explain it the way I can—she understands the traditional magic, but the Resonant aspects are unique to me.”

“You’re fifteen years old,” Patricia said, her voice breaking.

“You’ve already done so much.

Can’t someone else—”

“There is no one else, Mom.

Not with my abilities.” Emma took her mother’s hands.

“I know you’re scared.

I’m scared too.

But Mrs.

Callahan died protecting Eldergrove.

The bound families are suffering because of secrets kept for too long.

If I can help prevent that from happening in other communities, I have to try.”

Thomas Henderson looked at his daughter with a mixture of pride and terror.

“If you go, we go.

Your mother and I aren’t letting you face this alone.”

“The Covenant is only sending supernatural delegates,” Mishka said gently.

“Security restrictions.”

“Then we’ll stay in Montreal,” Patricia said firmly.

“At a hotel near the summit location.

Close enough to reach Emma if anything happens.”

It was the best compromise they could reach.

On the second day of preparation, Mrs.

Pemberton arrived with a bag of supplies—protective charms, communication crystals, emergency talismans.

“The summit will be under Covenant protection, but I don’t trust anyone’s wards except my own,” the elderly witch said, pressing items into Mishka’s and Emma’s hands.

“These are keyed to me personally.

If you’re in danger, crush the crystal and I’ll know immediately.”

“You’re not coming to the summit?” Mishka asked.

“Someone needs to stay and protect Eldergrove,” Mrs.

Pemberton said.

“With you, Bruce, Julian, Duncan, and Emma all leaving, the community will be vulnerable.

Mikhail and I will coordinate the defense.”

She pulled Emma aside, and Mishka watched them talk quietly, the older witch’s hands on the young girl’s shoulders, passing on some final piece of wisdom or warning.

That evening, Mishka found herself in the community center, looking at the map of Eldergrove on the wall.

Red pins marked the homes of families who’d left after the Council meeting.

Blue pins marked the bound families.

So much had changed in such a short time.

“Second thoughts?” a voice said behind her.

Mikhail Kovač stood in the doorway, his silver eyes understanding.

“Third and fourth thoughts,” Mishka admitted.

“I’m not qualified for this, Mikhail.

I’m not a politician or a diplomat.

I’m an engineer who accidentally became the face of a movement I’m not sure I believe in anymore.”

“You don’t believe in integration?”

“I believe in it.

I’m just not sure we can make it work.

Not with Jean attacking us from outside and secrets like the binding destroying us from within.” She turned to face him.

“Your family kept that secret for three generations.

Why reveal it now?”

“Because continuing to hide it would make us no better than Jean,” Mikhail said quietly.

“She builds her power on secrets and lies, on controlling information and manipulating fear.

If we do the same—even with good intentions—we become what we’re fighting against.”

“But the timing—”

“Is terrible.

Yes.

But there’s never a good time to admit you’ve been complicit in imprisoning innocent people.” He moved to stand beside her at the map.

“My grandmother was Clara Eldergrove’s closest friend.

She knew what Clara had done and kept the secret because she believed in the greater good.

Eldergrove was saving supernatural lives, providing sanctuary to beings who had nowhere else to go.

The seven bound families were criminals or dangerous individuals who needed to be contained.

It all seemed justified.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No.

Because once you start deciding who deserves freedom and who doesn’t, you’ve already lost the moral high ground.” Mikhail’s expression was pained.

“Clara meant well.

My grandmother meant well.

But good intentions don’t excuse bad actions.

At the summit, you’re going to have to convince a room full of frightened, angry people that Eldergrove—and by extension, the integration movement—can be better than its founders.

That we can confront our mistakes and fix them.”

“Can we?

The binding might kill people if we try to break it.”

“Then we find another way.

We’re creative, resourceful beings.

Magic isn’t static—it can be modified, adapted, improved.” He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re the right person to represent Eldergrove, Mishka.

Not because you have all the answers, but because you’re willing to admit when you don’t.

Because you’ll fight for what’s right even when it’s hard.

That’s what leadership is.”

After Mikhail left, Mishka stayed in the community center, looking at the map, the pins, the evidence of their fractured community.

In three days, she’d be in Montreal, facing delegates who would question her competence, her honesty, her right to speak for integration.

And she’d have to convince them—convince herself—that this was still worth fighting for.