CHAPTER 27: The War Room

Beyond the ruined Sweet Haven, past the smoldering wreckage left in the wake of the Deviants’ rampage, the heart of the Founders’ House remained untouched. Its walls of polished stone and reinforced alloy gleamed under artificial lights, an unshaken symbol of power.

But even this fortress was only the outer shell.

Beyond the Gates of Azulon—a structure so massive its engraved sigils pulsed with kinetic energy—lay a domain few had ever seen: the hidden sanctuary of the Seven Families. Within its towering, steel-and-glass monoliths lived the true architects of the Dome, those who dictated its laws and shaped its future. Their homes, laced with energy fields and defense mechanisms that could repel a full-scale siege, remained untarnished by the destruction outside.

Deep beneath this sanctuary, within the War Room, preparations for an emergency meeting were underway. The chamber was neither small nor large—until it needed to be.

Sienna Azulon stood near the entrance, her arms raised slightly as the very walls rippled like breathing stone. At just eighteen, she had already mastered an ability passed down through her bloodline: Mass Expansion. With a single thought, she could manipulate the density and scale of matter, stretching spaces to fit their occupants or compressing them to near nothingness.

The Azulon Family, beyond their role as gatekeepers, were the Dome’s architects. It was their craftsmanship that kept the structures standing, and today, her father was out in the field, overseeing the reconstruction of the districts that were destroyed in the attack. She was one of the procedure’s graduates from last year, her time at the Glades cut short because her gift was simply too valuable to waste.

Sienna exhaled, her fingertips glowing faintly as the marble floor groaned, stretching outward as the ceiling lifted seamlessly. Chairs materialized from the ground, sculpted from the very material of the floor, each one uniquely designed to accommodate its occupant. Heavier seats were reinforced, while others bore intricate engravings reflecting their owner’s prestige. The last chair she formed stood at the head of the table—a throne-like seat slightly elevated above the rest. This would belong to the Founder’s head.

With a final flick of her fingers, the room settled into place. She nodded toward Arlon, stationed at the entrance as head of security.

The meeting was ready to begin.

The Four entered first, each moving with an authority that made the room itself feel smaller.

At the head of the procession, Axel took his seat, his eyes sharp as steel, his presence heavier than the gravity pressing down on the chamber. Behind him, Scarlett, Lexi, and Mael positioned themselves, their gazes assessing the space, their expressions unreadable.

A small commotion stirred outside.

“Let me in,” Michael demanded, standing before Arlon at the entrance.

“No,” Arlon replied, arms crossed. “Dad doesn’t want you in there.”

“Why not? Emma’s getting in.”

Arlon sighed. “That’s because she’s Ms. Dumont’s only daughter. I’m representing our family. We can’t have everyone in the meeting.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Come on, Arlon. You’re security, not a gatekeeper.”

Arlon exhaled, shaking his head. “Listen, I was hoping you’d take my place as head of security today. When I become the Founder’s Head, it’ll be your job, just like I did for Dad. But… I’ll tell you what.” He paused, then smirked. “You can take my place in the meeting. Just keep your mouth shut. This isn’t like those informal meetings at Dad’s office. Some of these old heads don’t take kindly to an initiate speaking out of turn. You and Emma…stick close to Phoebe.”

Michael grinned. “Thanks, Arlon.”

“Not yet,” Arlon yanked him back. “Senior members enter first. You, Phoebe and Emma go in last. And for fuck’s sake… go change. You stink like you just came from a shithole.”

Michael huffed but stepped aside as the Heads of the Seven Families made their entrance.

Max Thunder entered first, a towering figure with wild, shoulder-length hair, his electric-blue eyes crackling with barely contained energy. He gave Michael a small nod as he passed, amusement flickering across his face.

Next came James Castle, a broad-shouldered man wrapped in a military-style coat. His mere presence commanded respect, the air around him thick with unspoken authority.

Then Luna Azulon, Sienna’s mother. She glided through the entrance, her presence as cold and calculating as the structures her family designed.

One by one, the senior-ranked operatives followed—Rebel, Constantine, Ava, and Juni—each taking their designated seats with practiced precision.

Arlon caught Rebel’s arm before she sat down. "Where are they?"

"Not here yet," Rebel murmured. "But I heard they’re back in the Regens. Kuzan went to get them."

Michael returned, now wearing a crisp white shirt with silver-threaded embroidery, its high collar slightly unbuttoned. He had swapped his dirt-ridden boots for sleek black ones and fastened a leather belt with his family crest etched in the buckle.

Phoebe, Emma, and Michael stood nearby, waiting. They shared a knowing glance before stepping inside together, Sienna joining them as they entered closing the door.

The chamber fell into a tense silence.

The meeting was set to begin when the doors swung open.

Six figures stepped in. The room’s atmosphere changed instantly.

Even Axel leaned forward slightly, his fingers resting on his cheeks.

Taskforce X mutants.

The six most powerful mutants in the Dome, one of few operatives who took missions to the Outside of the Dome to fight Deviants.

Each wore the Taskforce X signature black coats, the unmistakable red X across their backs, a mark of their authority. They moved with absolute certainty, the kind of confidence that came from knowing they were untouchable.

At the head of the group walked Kairos Ultima, hands stuffed into his pockets, a wide grin spread across his face. His dark, tousled hair framed his angular features, his red eyes sharp and amused.

Beside him, Kuzan Tuko, his coat unbuttoned, revealing a simple white vest underneath. He carried himself with effortless composure, a walking contradiction of relaxed deadliness.

To his left, Raven stepped forward, her deep violet hair falling over one shoulder. Strands of hair framed her sharp, frowning face. Her piercing indigo eyes scanned the room, expression unreadable.

The other three followed; Lazarus, a lean pale figure with ghostly white irises glowing faintly, his hands covered in intricate gloves pulsing with some unknown energy.

Selene Quinn, tall and striking, one side of her head shaved while the other bore thick, dark locks cascading down her left side. Her coat was cut at the shoulders looking more like a vest, exposing tattooed arms marked with strange symbols. A smirk permanently formed on her lips.

Julian Rojas, built like a war machine. Broad shoulders rolled with ease as he entered, raw power exuding from every step. His blonde hair was slicked back, a clean stubble lining his jaw. His heterochromatic eyes—one ice-blue, the other dark brown—made him look both predatory and unreadable.

Raven gave Constantine a slow, knowing wink as she slid into her seat.

Then, Kairos Ultima broke the silence with a casual chuckle throwing his coat on his chair lazily.

“Well, well…” His smirk widened. “You all look tense.”

"Is this a funeral? Or are we actually planning to kill some fucking Deviants?"