268 Chapter 268 Stolen Authority
Briar’s POV 1
The document waits for me like a trap when I finally open my eyes.
No urgent flags. No confidential markings. Just sitting there in the morning briefing feed, already circulated to half the district before I even knew it existed. The kind of paperwork that looks legitimate because everyone treats it like it is, not because anyone bothered to verify the source.
I scan the header through bleary eyes, still propped up against my pillows.
Enforcement Authorization Summary Under Mediation Supervision.
My stomach drops before I even reach the second paragraph.
There it is. My name. Briar Winter. Printed in black and white like some kind of official seal, giving weight to decisions I never made and authority I never granted.
I sit up straighter, the morning chill hitting my bare shoulders as the blanket falls away. The tablet feels heavy in my hands, heavier than it should for something made of glass and metal.
I force myself to read every line.
Expanded patrol zones in disputed territories. Extended detention periods for suspected agitators. Increased surveillance under temporary emergency protocols. All of it wrapped in language so sanitized it sounds like
bureaucratic housekeeping instead of what it really is.
Control.
Force.
Power grabs disguised as public safety.
And my name stamped on every single authorization.
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268 Chapter 268 Stolen Authority
The rage hits me like ice water, sharp and immediate. Not the hot, messy kind of anger that makes you stupid. The cold, focused kind that makes you dangerous.
They planned this.
Every conversation. Every negotiation. Every time they nodded and agreed to limitations, they were already working around them.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, feet hitting the hardwood floor with more force than necessary. The sound echoes in the quiet room, solid and definitive.
I dress quickly. Shadow jeans. Boots with good traction. A jacket that won’t restrict my movement. I’m not dressing for diplomacy today.
I’m dressing for war.
The coalition headquarters buzzes with typical morning energy when I stride through the front entrance. Conversations flow around clusters of staffers, phones ring at reception desks, coffee cups steam in busy hands.
All of it stutters when they see me.
Not stops. Stutters. Like a record skipping. Voices trail off mid–sentence. Heads turn. Someone drops papers, the sound sharp in the sudden quiet.
I don’t slow down.
The main assembly room doors stand open, and I can hear him before I see him. The coalition leader, voice smooth as aged whiskey, addressing the morning committee. He’s in his element here. Comfortable. Confident.
About to be very uncomfortable.
I step into the doorway and wait.
Not hiding. Not lurking. Just standing there, letting my presence fill the space until it becomes impossible to ignore.
It takes him only a few moments to notice me.
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His voice catches first, just a tiny hitch in whatever he’s saying about community safety measures. Then his eyes find mine across the room, and I watch his expression shift through distinct phases.
Surprise. Calculation. Concern.
Smart man. He should be concerned.
He tries to keep talking, but the words come out stilted now, artificial. Everyone can feel the tension cracling between us like electricity before a
storm.
Finally, he gives up pretending this is normal.
“Briar,” he says, arranging his mouth into what probably passes for a welcoming smile in other circumstances. “This is unexpected. We weren’t planning-”
“No,” I interrupt, my voice cutting through his pleasantries like a blade. “I imagine you weren’t.”
The room goes dead silent.
Many people holding their breath, waiting to see how this plays out. Some lean forward, others lean back, but nobody looks away.
I take measured steps into the room, stopping just close enough to the podium to make him uncomfortable without crowding him. Professional distance with an edge.
“I read your enforcement authorization report this morning” I say, each word deliberate and clear. “The one with my name on it.”
Something flickers behind his eyes. Guilt, maybe. Or just annoyance at being caught.
“Yes, well, as the appointed mediator, your oversight naturally extends to-”
“Stop talking.”
Two words. Flat. Final.
268 Chapter 268 Stolen Authority
He stops.
The silence stretches, thick and heavy. Someone coughs nervously in the back row.
“I am not an enforcement authority,” I continue, my tone conversational but carrying enough steel to cut glass. “I do not authorize patrols. I do not approve detention protocols. I certainly do not expand territorial control
measures.”
His jaw tightens. “These actions were necessary for public safety. The situation demanded immediate-”
“The situation demanded that you follow the parameters we established,” I interrupt. “Instead, you decided to use my name to justify actions that violate every agreement we’ve made.”
I turn slightly, addressing the room now instead of him. Taking away his audience. Making him a spectator in his own meeting.
“Let me make something absolutely clear to everyone here,” I say, my voice carrying to every corner of the room. “Any enforcement action taken under the claim of my authorization is fraudulent. I have not approved these measures. I will not approve these measures.”
The weight of those words settles over the room like a heavy blanket.
The coalition leader’s face flushes red above his collar. “You’re being unreasonable. The security of our communities-”
“Is not served by unauthorized use of mediation authority,” I finish. “Try again.”
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269 Chapter 269 Extended Warfare
