“You made it physical,” I reply. I lean in slightly, lowering my voice so only he can hear the next words.
“And you will stop whispering to the younger wolves. You will stop nudging their doubts. I know what you are doing.”
His eyes flicker, just once. “You presume much,” he says.
Ciaran steps closer. “Alpha.”
The single word is a reminder.
I release Gideon abruptly.
He straightens slowly, smoothing his jacket as if the confrontation was minor. The younger wolves retreat a half step, tension still crackling between them like static.
Brynn moves forward, her presence steady and grounding. “This is a pack sanctuary,” she says calmly. “Not a battleground.”
Lydia and Marek follow behind her, expressions tight and watchful.
Gideon adjusts his sleeves, expression composed once more. “I merely voiced concern.”
“You shoved me,” I say flatly.
“A moment of heated debate,” he replies.
Marek exhales heavily. “Enough.”
Brynn’s gaze shifts to me. “The pack is unsettled.”
“I am aware,” I say.
“That human’s presence has raised tensions,” Lydia continues. “You cannot deny that.”
I do not answer immediately.
The corridor feels smaller, heavier, filled with the eyes of wolves who pretend not to be watching. I think of Cassidy in the study with her maps and numbers, unaware of the currents shifting beneath her feet.
Brynn studies my face for a long moment. “The pack perceives disruption.”
Gideon folds his hands behind his back. “Then let transparency settle it. Present her to the council. Let her speak her evidence openly. If she is as valuable as you claim, she will withstand scrutiny.”
The proposal is smooth. Too smooth.
Lydia nods slightly. “It would reduce speculation.”
Marek inclines his head. “It would quiet whispers.”
Ciaran looks at me from just outside of the circle, his expression unreadable but alert.
“She is not a spectacle,” I say.
“She is already a subject of discussion,” Brynn replies gently. “Better to address it openly.”
My wolf snarls at the thought of Cassidy standing before the full council, subjected to their scrutiny and veiled hostility. The instinct to shield her is immediate and fierce, and it takes effort to keep it from surfacing.
The corridor is silent except for the faint crackle of torchlight.
I weigh the angles quickly. Refusal would look like concealment. Agreement exposes her to council pressure, but it also forces Gideon into the open where I can watch him.
Ciaran’s gaze meets mine briefly.
