That tells me everything I need to know. The young wolf who volunteered for this mission despite barely being old enough to fight is lying on a table in the medical wing with his chest torn open and his chances slipping away with every passing minute. I watched him go down during the battle. I heard him scream. And I kept fighting because that’s what soldiers do, even when the cost of victory starts to feel too high.
Caelan stands beside me in the hallway outside the medical wing. Her hand finds mine, and I hold on tight. She’s exhausted. We both are. But there’s no time to rest. The council is waiting.
“He’s strong,” she says quietly. “He might pull through.”
“He might.” I don’t believe it, and neither does she. But we say the words anyway because hope is all we have right now.
The walk to the council chamber feels like a march to my own execution. Jonas trails behind us with his wrists bound in front of him. It’s a formality more than anything. He surrendered willingly, and he hasn’t tried to run. But the allied packs don’t trust him yet, and I can’t blame them for that. Trust has to be earned. I’m still earning mine.
The other Thornridge defectors wait in a holding area near the pack hall, twelve wolves who chose to follow us instead of fleeing with Bastian and the loyalists. Twelve wolves whose fates now rest in the hands of people who have every reason to hate them.
Oren Blacklock stands at the head of the council table when we enter the chamber. Dorian Fields occupies the seat tohis right, and Matriarch Lydia Thornwick sits to his left. The three most powerful leaders in the allied territories gathered to decide what happens next.
Ash sits beside her mate with her hands folded on the table in front of her. Kira is next to Dorian, and Sera occupies the chair beside her aunt. Reeyan stands against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, looking between Jonas and me, assessing.
“Patrick Walzak,” Oren begins, “you stand before this council to speak on behalf of the Thornridge wolves who surrendered after the battle. Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“And you understand that this council has the authority to imprison or execute those wolves if we determine them to be a continued threat?”
My stomach clenches, but I keep my voice steady. “I understand.”
“Then speak.”
I step forward. Jonas remains where he is, flanked by two Grayhide guards who look ready to tear him apart at the slightest provocation.
“The wolves who surrendered today aren’t monsters,” I begin. “They’re survivors. Most of them were absorbed into Thornridge the same way Jonas and I were. Their original packs were conquered. Their families were killed or scattered. They had two choices: submit or die. They chose to live.”
“Survival doesn’t excuse the crimes committed in Mordaunt’s name,” Matriarch Lydia points out.
“No, it doesn’t. I’m not asking you to excuse anything. I’m not asking for absolution or forgiveness or a clean slate. I’masking for a chance. A chance for these wolves to prove they can be better than what Thornridge made them. A chance to earn a place in packs that value honor over cruelty.”
Dorian asks, “And if they can’t? If they prove to be the threat we suspect they are?”
“Then you deal with them accordingly. I won’t stand in your way.”
Oren watches me for a moment, then he turns to consult with Dorian and Matriarch Lydia. They speak quietly, but I catch fragments of the conversation. Words like “probation” and “supervision” and “accountability.” The discussion stretches on for several minutes while I stand there trying not to fidget.
Finally, Oren looks at me again. “The council has reached a decision.”
I brace myself for the worst.
“The Thornridge defectors will be integrated into the allied packs on a probationary basis. Each wolf will be assigned to a specific territory and paired with a mentor who will vouch for their behavior. Any violation of the pack law will result in immediate imprisonment or exile. Any act of violence against allied wolves will be punishable by death.”
“Thank you,” I breathe out.
“Don’t thank us yet,” Oren warns. “This is a trial period. Three months. If any of your wolves prove untrustworthy during that time, the arrangement ends. For all of them.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” Oren gestures toward Jonas. “Your brother will be placed under Reeyan’s supervision here in Grayhide territory. He’ll live in the packhouse, follow pack rules, and contribute to pack life like any other member. But he won’t be allowed to leavethe territory without permission, and he’ll check in with Reeyan daily.”
I glance at Jonas. His face is blank, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. Being supervised by a stranger in enemy territory isn’t what he wanted, but it’s better than a cell. Better than death.
“Jonas.” I wait until he makes eye contact. “This is your chance. Don’t waste it.”
He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t argue, either, and right now, I’ll take that as a win.
