“Or what?” Callum steps closer.
“Enough.” Kari doesn’t raise her voice. The coldness in it cracks like ice. “You’re all off your game and pretending it’s training fatigue.”
“And you’re not?” Ben challenges.
Kari’s eyes narrow. “I’m managing my shit.”
Callum scoffs. “Like you managed that perimeter breach yesterday?”
“That wasn’t—“
“Two more wolves came to the infirmary this morning,” Lyanna interrupts, finally turning from the cabinet. “Fighting over nothing. One needed stitches.” Her gaze moves between Callum and Ben. “This isn’t just happening in training.”
I let my wolf rise just enough; not a shift, but a promise. The scent of dominance rolls off me in waves.
I turn to Rafe, who hasn’t moved, hasn’t blinked. “You’ve seen this before.”
Rafe uncrosses his arms, straightens slightly. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? This isn’t magic. It’s rot. And they’re all feeding it.” His eyes scan each face in turn. “All of you.”
The room crackles with sudden, violent energy. Callum’s hands curl into fists. Kari goes completely still. Ben takes half a step forward.
“Where’s Nova?” I ask, changing course.
“Tracking something along the southern border,” Lyanna answers. “She felt a disturbance in the magical field. Said it wasn’t like the other fluctuations.”
“And she went alone?”
“You know Nova,” Lyanna says simply.
“Reports on the desk,” I say, voice deliberately level. “Callum, take Wyatt and check the eastern perimeter markers again. Ben, training groups restructured by noon. Mix them up. Break the patterns.” I glance at Kari. “Northern sweep with Reyna. Track the scent markers from the carcasses. Full detail.”
I turn to Rafe. “You’re with me.”
Then to Lyanna: “Check the water supply. Food stores. Anything that could be affecting the pack physically. Find Harper and have her help you.”
No one argues. No one questions. But the compliance feels thin, breakable.
As they file out, I catch the look Callum gives Lyanna—something between concern and frustration. She meets his gaze steadily before he turns away.
Lyanna stays behind, waiting until the others are gone.
“Nova said to tell you she’s following a specific energy signature,” she says quietly. “Something connecting the disturbances. She thinks it’s targeted, not random.”
I nod. “Keep me updated.”
“They’re all on edge,” Lyanna says. “More than they should be.”
“I know.”
“Even you.”
I don’t deny it. This is what command looks like at the edge—not control, just the illusion of it. Procedural motions while the ground shifts beneath us.
They’re not just irritable. They’re fracturing. And I can’t stop it with orders.
I walk west with Rafe, checking ward markers along the treeline. The silence between us isn’t comfortable. Not hostile either. Just watchful.
Rafe moves like someone who’s spent a lifetime reading landscapes before speaking. Each step precise, eyes constantly scanning. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t waste energy. Just moves with that unnerving economy that speaks of battles I haven’t fought.
