“Dane.” Marcus takes another step forward. “Nova hasn’t been straight with us since day one. Now she’s half-dead, you’re bleeding, and we deserve to know what we’re facing.”
I don’t move. Don’t shift my weight. Don’t let my hand drift toward my knife. The pack watches, waiting for my reaction, their scents mingling with the copper tang of blood still fresh on my clothes.
“She followed the signature,” I say, keeping my voice flat. “And it opened under her.”
“And almost died for it,” Marcus counters, his shoulders squaring. “She compromised the pack’s security—“
“She secured it.”
Marcus’s jaw tightens, a muscle twitching beneath his stubbled skin. “She strolled out like she always does—and came back half-dead in your arms. Covered in blood. You expect us to ignore that? The pack needs answers, not blind faith.”
“She came back.” My voice cuts through his, sharp enough to make several wolves flinch. “She faced something none of you could have. And she walked out of it.”
I let that land before I finish: “That’s all you need to know right now.”
The clearing goes still. Some wolves look away. Others hold their ground, scents sharpening with doubt, eyes trackingbetween Marcus and me like they’re counting the seconds until one of us breaks.
Marcus crosses his arms, his stance widening. Ben takes a half-step forward, positioning himself at my right flank.
“This isn’t just about tonight,” Marcus says, his voice lower but no less challenging. “This isn’t Shadow Peak. This isn’t Storm Ridge. We built something different here. Something where the Alpha doesn’t just decide what information we deserve.”
“Ash Hollow stands because we follow orders,” Kari’s voice slices through the tension as she steps into the circle. Not beside me. Not against me. Just between. Her auburn braid swings against her back as she moves.
Her posture is rigid, her eyes sweeping the gathered wolves. “You want explanations? Fine. Nova tracked the signature while we sat here arguing. She pinpointed it while we played politics.” Her gaze locks on Marcus. “And she survived it. Which means we have information we didn’t have yesterday.”
She turns to face the pack head-on. “Challenge the Alpha after we secure the territory. Not while we’re still bleeding. Not while whatever attacked Nova might come for us next.”
The murmurs die down. Wolves exchange glances, scents shifting from aggression to unease. Then resignation. Lyanna steps back, pulling a younger wolf with her. Ben remains where he is, a silent barrier between the pack and me.
“The priority is securing our borders,” I say, breaking the silence. “Nova risked herself to get us critical information. When she’s stable, we’ll discuss what she found.”
No one speaks after that. No one needs to.
Marcus holds my gaze for three more heartbeats before nodding once. Short. Tight.
“Post double guards tonight,” Callum says. “I’ll take first rotation.”
It’s enough. For now. But the challenge isn’t over—just postponed until Nova wakes up. If she wakes up.
I turn away from the pack—not dismissing them, but setting priorities. Patrol comes first. Always has. The clearing empties slowly, wolves breaking into groups, heads bent in conversation. Let them talk. As long as they work.
I put my jacket on and move toward the perimeter.
My boots crunch gravel as I head south. Blood seeps steadily from the gash on my forearm. I should wrap it. Later.
The compound fades behind me. Trees thicken. Darkness swallows sound. Better.
I breathe in forest scents: wet earth, pine, decaying leaves. No sulfur. No distortion. No magic burn. Just clean air and regular darkness. I keep moving.
My side throbs with each step. Ribs, healing. Not important. What matters is the perimeter. What matters is making sure nothing follows us back. What matters is—
“Your arm’s still bleeding.”
Ben materializes from the shadows, walking the ridge line fifteen feet to my left. His movement is silent, deliberate. Nothing like the thundering approach most wolves use.
I don’t slow down. Neither does he.
“I’ll wrap it after patrol.”
