Kael stepped into the council chamber of Blackridge, the heavy doors closing behind him with a muted thud.
The room was shaped from obsidian-dark stone, banners of the Blackridge wolf flanking the walls. A large circular table sat at the center, surrounded by warriors, elders, and his highest-ranking patrol captains.
At the far end stood Elder Maeron—the oldest advisor in Blackridge, eyes sharp as moonlit ice.
Every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward Kael the moment he entered.
Ryden stood near the table, arms crossed, expression grim. Mirael, still smelling faintly of healing herbs, had clearly arrived straight from the ward.
Kael forced himself to remain calm.
His mind was still half in the healer's room—
half on the fragile hand he had held until dawn—
half on the soft heartbeat he couldn't stop listening to.
But he was Alpha.
He had to be here.
"Alpha Kael," Elder Maeron began, voice cutting through the tension. "We have reports that Silvercrest has been moving troops along the eastern border."
A murmur rippled through the room.
Ryden added, "It's not a full army. Yet. But he's posturing. Testing if we'll respond."
Kael's jaw clenched. Roran's desperation was becoming reckless.
"What of the Higher Table?" Kael asked, stepping forward.
Elder Maeron folded his hands. "They have sent a formal summons to Silvercrest. And to us. They want an inquiry regarding the treatment of the Bloodbane survivor."
The room stilled.
Bloodbane survivor.
Elara.
Kael felt a surge of protectiveness so immediate and sharp that his wolf rose in his eyes.
Mirael stepped forward cautiously, as though walking near a wild animal. "Alpha, her strength is returning faster than expected. But she cannot endure travel. Not yet."
"She won't be moved," Kael said firmly. "Not until she can stand without wavering."
Ryden gave him a knowing look. "You plan to defy the Higher Table?"
"Not defy." Kael breathed out slowly. "Delay."
Elder Maeron leaned his weight on his staff. "Silvercrest may take that as provocation."
Kael's expression hardened. "Roran provoked first. He imprisoned a wolf with an unawakened lineage. He fed her wolfsbane. He tried to force her into a political bond."
His voice deepened, dangerous.
"I will not apologize for protecting her."
Silence. No one challenged him.
But the room's tension was a living thing.
Ryden exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Kael… the pack is beginning to talk."
Kael shot him a warning glare. "About what?"
"About Elara," Ryden replied plainly. "About you. Your choices. Your… attachment."
Kael froze.
Attachment.
As if the word was too small for the truth.
Ryden continued, "They're wondering when you will name a Luna. Some assume you already chose someone in secret. Others think something happened in Silvercrest that's clouding your judgment."
Rumors. Insecurities. Wolves seeking reassurance.
Kael inhaled slowly. "My personal life is not the subject of today's meeting."
"Maybe not," Ryden said quietly. "But the pack sees that you haven't courted anyone in years. They've waited. They've expected. Now they see how you look at her."
Kael looked away, jaw tight.
He couldn't explain.
Not here.
Not yet.
His wolf clawed at him—wanting to return to the healing hall, to the space beside her bed, to the warmth of her fragile pulse.
"Focus," Kael said, forcing the Alpha tone into his voice. "Roran plans to move against us. I need current scout reports."
At once, the tension shifted back to strategy.
Captain Therin stepped forward, placing a map on the table. "Silvercrest patrols have doubled. They're sending scouts near the ridge path. But…" He hesitated.
"But what?" Kael demanded.
"They're disorganized," Therin said. "Not the preparation of a determined army. It seems rushed. Chaotic. As if the Alpha is acting from panic, not strategy."
Roran. Desperate, cornered, and reckless.
That was dangerous.
A cornered wolf bites harder.
Elder Maeron's gaze sharpened. "Kael, if Silvercrest attacks, the Higher Table will investigate both sides. If they find that you sheltered their wolf without proper diplomatic notice—"
"She is not their wolf," Kael growled. "Not anymore."
"And what is she to you?" Ryden asked softly.
The question struck him like a blade.
Kael closed his eyes for a moment.
What was she?
Lost.
Hunted.
Hurt.
And his.
Always his.
He opened his eyes, voice steady but quiet. "She is under Blackridge protection. That is all anyone needs to know."
Elder Maeron nodded reluctantly. "Then we stand with her."
Kael straightened.
"Good. Prepare defensive patrols along the eastern ridge. Quietly. No provocations. Ryden, arrange a formal message to the Higher Table confirming that Elara is receiving treatment under Blackridge care and is not fit to travel."
Ryden bowed his head. "Yes, Alpha."
Kael turned to leave.
But before he reached the door, Elder Maeron called out, "Kael."
He stopped.
"You cannot shield her alone," the elder said. "If you intend to protect this girl from every danger, you must trust your pack to stand with you. Or you will break."
Kael didn't respond.
He simply walked out.
Because he already knew the truth—
He would break before he ever let harm touch her again.