Callum paces the length of the planning table, back and forth, a caged animal wearing the concrete. His shoulders jut too high, his fingers flex then curl into fists. Back and forth. Flex and curl.
Ben stands with his back to the far wall, arms crossed tight across his chest. His eyes track Callum’s movements, narrowed slightly. Guarded.
Kari sits at the table’s corner, flipping through reports with mechanical precision. Her spine doesn’t touch the back of her chair.
And Rafe, watching them all from the corner, perfectly still. The kind of stillness that isn’t calm—it’s calculation.
Lyanna stands by the medical supply cabinet, organizing vials and bandages, her movements precise but tense. She doesn’t look up when I enter, but her shoulders stiffen slightly.
They acknowledge my entrance with murmurs of “Alpha” and brief nods, but the usual ease is missing. The tension in the room thickens.
“Reports,” I say, placing my palms flat on the table.
Kari slides a stack toward me. “Perimeter scans from 0400 to 0700. Elevated energy signatures along the eastern ridge. Again.”
“Same pattern?” I ask.
“No pattern.” She taps the paper with one finger. “That’s the problem.”
Callum stops pacing, turns. “Third shift found animal carcasses by the creek. Wrong placement. No scavenger marks.” His voice comes out clipped, harder than necessary.
He pulls out his patrol rotation chart, spreading it across the table with more force than necessary. His finger jabs at theeastern sector. “And there’s this. I scheduled Derek’s team for the eastern perimeter at 0600. They never showed.”
“Where were they?” I ask.
“Running Marcus’s schedule.” His voice stays level, but barely. “Marcus created his own rotation. His wolves follow it instead of mine.”
The temperature in the room drops.
Ben shifts his weight. “How long?”
“Since Tuesday. Maybe longer.” Callum’s jaw works. “I only noticed when patrol overlap created a gap on the southern ridge. Nobody showed because both schedules assumed the other had it covered.”
Kari stops flipping through reports. “You confronted him?”
“This morning.” Callum’s tone turns bitter. “He said he was ‘just making sure coverage is complete.’ Reasonable explanation. Helpful even.”
“Except it’s insubordination,” I finish.
“Exactly.” Callum meets my eyes. “His wolves follow his schedule, not mine. When I give patrol assignments, they check with Marcus first. I’m not Gamma to half this pack anymore.”
The silence stretches. This isn’t personality conflict. This is operational breakdown. Two command structures can’t coexist.
“Options?” I ask, though I already know.
“Force compliance,” Callum says. “Make him submit to an official chain of command.”
“Which will cause an open break,” Ben adds quietly. “His faction will see it as persecution.”
“Or accept the division,” Callum continues, disgust creeping into his voice. “Let him run his wolves his way. Formalize the fracture.”
Either choice strengthens what Faelan’s been building. Force compliance, and I’m the tyrant Marcus warned them about. Accept division, and I’ve already lost.
Ben finally pushes off the wall. “Training rotations need adjustment. Four separate incidents this morning. Wolves snapping over nothing.”
“Nothing?” Callum’s laugh comes out harsh. “You were so fixated on the south field that Eli and Tomas nearly killed each other. By the time you noticed, they’d already drawn blood. And Alpha had to step in.”
Ben’s posture shifts, shoulders squaring. “Careful.”
