Instead, Stellan smiles. It's a small thing, barely a curve of his lips, but it transforms his face. Makes him look younger. Less like the man who broke bones last night.
"Torben, return to the fortress and begin preparations. I want all warriors armed and ready within the hour. Send riders to the Ashwood pack and the Greymoor pack. Call in every alliance we have."
Torben nods and disappears down the path without another word.
Stellan turns back to me, and the smile fades into intensity.
"When this is over," he says, "I'm completing the bond. The bite. The claiming. Everything it means."
My heart stutters. "Including the conversion?"
"You'd become wolf. You'd never be human again. The omega in you would be fully awakened, and you'd be bound to me in ways that go beyond ceremony or law. Our souls would be linked. If you die, I follow within the year. That's what the bond means."
I think about Signe's words. Submission is a weapon when you choose who receives it. The question is whether he's worthy of what you'd give.
I think about the man who watched me for years without taking. The man who broke bones to defend my honor. The man who just showed me his loneliness, his weariness, the weight he has carried alone for fifteen years.
I think about the woman I saw in the mirror, the stranger wearing my face who woke up reaching for him.
I don't respond. I pull away and start down the path, the weight of his words settling into my bones.
War is coming. And after it—if we survive—I'll be wolf whether I want to or not. The only question is how much of myself I'll lose in the becoming.
10
STELLAN
War is coming. I have fought wars before and I know the price in blood and grief. But this war is different. Korren has made her his excuse, twisted my claim on her into justification for his ambition. He would have come for my territory regardless. She simply gave him a story to tell his wolves.
The war council gathers in the great hall as the sun sets behind the mountains. Torben stands at my right hand, his expression grim. Around the table are my most trusted wolves: Sven, who has led our eastern patrols for a decade. Gunnar, whose knowledge of the mountain passes is unmatched. Erik, whose scouts brought us the intelligence about Korren's movements. Representatives from our allied packs have answered the call as well—Holger from Ashwood, a grizzled veteran with more battle scars than teeth, and Vidar from Greymoor, whose cold eyes miss nothing and whose wolves are legendary for their discipline. And Iris, standing at the edge of the group with her arms crossed, watching everything with those sharp eyes that miss nothing.
The wolves do not know what to make of her presence. I can smell their uncertainty, their skepticism. A human omegaat a war council is unprecedented. Some of them still think of her as nothing more than a distraction, an obsession that has weakened their alpha.
They are about to learn otherwise.
"Korren's forces are gathering here." I tap the map spread across the table, indicating the valley that marks our northern border. "He has amassed enough wolves to pose a serious threat, and if the Northern Pack falls, the balance of power alters across every territory. Ashwood and Greymoor would be next. His supply lines are stretched thin, which means he's counting on a quick victory."
"Then we don't give him one," Torben says. "We fortify the keep and wait him out. Let winter do our work for us."
"That plays into his hands." The voice is Iris's, quiet but clear. Every head turns toward her. "A siege is exactly what he wants. He doesn't need to breach your walls. He just needs to keep you pinned here while he takes the outlying territories. By spring, he'll control the mountain passes, the hunting grounds, and the trade routes. The keep will be worthless."
Sven's lip curls. "And what would a human know about wolf warfare?"
"I know that warfare is warfare, regardless of species." Iris steps forward, her chin lifted, refusing to be intimidated. "I also know that Korren chose this timing deliberately. Winter means your pack can't scatter into the wilderness. You're concentrated, vulnerable. He's not attacking the keep because it's strong. He's attacking because it's a trap."
The silence that follows is heavy with reassessment. I watch my wolves recalculate their assumptions about the omega in their midst.
"She's right." Gunnar's voice is grudging but honest. "Korren isn't stupid. He wouldn't mass his forces for a siege he can't win. He has another angle."
"So we don't let him set the terms." Iris moves to the table and studies the map, her finger tracing the terrain. "Here. This canyon narrows to a chokepoint before it opens into your territory. If Korren's forces have to pass through single-file, their numbers mean nothing. You could hold them there with a fraction of your pack while the rest flanks from the high ground."
Erik leans in, frowning. "That's a day's march from the keep. We'd be leaving our home undefended."
"Your home is already undefended if you let Korren dictate the battlefield." Iris looks up at me, and I see the woman Helena trained, the warrior she never got to become. "You can't win a defensive war against a larger force. You have to take the fight to him. Make him react to you instead of the other way around."
"And if it's a trap?" Sven demands. "If Korren expects exactly this and has wolves waiting in the canyon?"
"Then you spring the trap on purpose and turn it back on him." Iris's voice is steady. "Send scouts ahead. Know the ground before you commit. But sitting here waiting to be surrounded is not strategy. It's surrender with extra steps."
