“What signs?” The question comes from Elena, a newer pack member with sharp eyes and a naturally suspicious nature.
Nova pushes off from the wall, moving to where everyone can see her. “Escalating conflicts that don’t resolve naturally. Trust breaking down faster than trauma would explain. Fights that get personal instead of staying pack business.”
Murmurs ripple through the room.
“Someone’s been feeding you triggers,” Nova continues, her voice matter-of-fact. “Learning your individual wounds and pressing on them. Making you doubt each other, doubt your place here, doubt whether you can ever really move past what broke you.”
“That’s bullshit.” Marcus pushes off from the back wall, his voice carrying the edge it’s had for weeks. “Our problems are real. We don’t need some outside influence to have trust issues.”
“You’re right,” Nova agrees, surprising him. “Your problems are real. That’s exactly what makes you vulnerable. Manipulation works best when it builds on existing wounds.”
I watch the room, reading faces, scenting the air. Some wolves are nodding, pieces clicking into place. Others look skeptical, defensive. A few—too many—smell angry.
“Some of you already know pieces of this.” I let that land before continuing. “Mateo. Tell everyone what you told me about Phil.”
Mateo’s face goes red, but he stands. “There’s this guy I’ve been running into in Silverwood. Phil Dawson. For weeks now. He seemed... He understood what we’ve been through. Always asking how the pack was doing, if we needed anything.”
“And yesterday you brought him here.” Ben’s voice is awfully low.
“He offered construction materials. Cheap. I thought I was helping—“
“You brought a stranger into our home.” Callum’s scent spikes with fury. “Without authorization. Without security clearance.”
“He wasn’t a stranger! He’s been nothing but helpful—“
“Helpful how?” Kari’s voice cuts through Mateo’s protest. “Specifically. What kind of help?”
Mateo looks around the room, desperate for support that isn’t coming. “He listened. When I told him about the fights, about how hard it’s been to settle in, he understood. He said it was normal for packs like us to struggle with trust.”
The silence that follows is heavy with implication.
“Packs like us?” I repeat.
“Broken packs. Failed packs.” Mateo’s voice gets smaller. “He said most packs that form from refugees don’t make it. That the trauma runs too deep.”
Nova nods like she expected this. “Classic destabilization technique. Validate the fear that you’re doomed to fail, then provide ‘understanding’ while the problems get worse.”
“You’re saying he caused our problems?” Elena asks.
“I’m saying he amplified them. Made them worse than they had to be.” Nova’s gaze sweeps the room. “How many of you have talked to Phil Dawson?”
My blood goes cold as hands slowly rise. One. Three. Five. Six.
Six wolves. Half the pack present in this room.
“Jesus Christ,” Callum breathes.
“Different approaches for different personalities,” Nova continues, her voice clinical. “Mateo got validation and understanding. What did the rest of you get?”
The stories that follow make my jaw clench tighter with each one. Phil offering sympathies about difficult leadershipdecisions. Phil suggesting that some pack members weren’t pulling their weight. Phil wondering out loud if exiled wolves could ever really trust each other again.
Seeds of doubt. Perfectly placed. Precisely targeted.
“He knew things,” Wyatt says, his voice strained. “About Shadow Peak. About what happened before. Things only pack would know.”
“Because he’s been collecting information for months,” Nova explains. “Every conversation, every admission, every vulnerability you shared. He’s been building a psychological profile of this pack.”
“To what end?” Ben’s question is sharp, focused.
