Chapter 20 — Ethan
My hands won’t stop shaking. The image of that blade coming at me keeps replaying in my mind. How close I came to death. If Rhiannon hadn’t moved so fast...
The realization hits me like a bucket of ice water.
I’m completely vulnerable here. No super strength. No healing abilities. No heightened senses to warn me of danger. I’m just a useless human, surrounded by apex predators and their enemies.
Rhiannon could’ve died because of me.
I lean against the cool stone wall, trying to steady my breath. Adrenaline is keeping every nerve on high alert. The fortress suddenly feels alien and hostile. A place where I don’t belong and never will.
“Mr. Langley.”
My father’s name jolts me upright. I turn to find Councilwoman Thora gliding toward me in the hallway. Her silver-streaked hair is pulled back in a severe bun.
“Councilwoman.” I nod.
She approaches with silent steps, hands clasped behind her back. “I heard about the incident. How fortunate that Commander Rhiannon was there to intervene.”
“Yes, she saved my life. I’m very grateful.”
Thora’s lips press into what might pass for a smile, but her eyes remain cold. “It’s unfortunate, though, that the Alpha’s second was injured protecting an outsider.” She leans in slightly, her voice dropping. “They’ll tolerate you, for now. But don’t think you’ll ever truly belong to our pack.”
The words sting, but I keep my expression neutral. “I’m here to help.”
“Are you helping? Or are you becoming a distraction? The Council’s watching, Mr. Langley. Best not give them reason to think you’re becoming a threat, or a liability to our Commander.”
Her tone is polite, even pleasant, but her message is clear: Leave. Sooner rather than later.
“I appreciate your...advice,” I say carefully.
Councilwoman Thora pats my arm like I’m a child who finally understands a difficult lesson.
“I’m simply looking out for everyone’s best interest. Especially the Commander’s.
” With a final pointed look, she continues down the hallway, leaving me with the cold certainty that my time in Clarion is running out.
The corridor blurs around me as I stumble toward Branson’s chambers on autopilot, my thoughts spinning out of control.
I don’t belong here. I’m making Rhiannon’s life worse, not better.
The Councilwoman’s words only mirrored my own doubts. How could there ever be a future for us when I can’t even protect myself, let alone protect her?
No, I need to focus. Find Branson. Every instinct screams at me to return to Rhiannon’s side, but I know she made the right call. Someone is behind these attacks, and we need to figure out who before anyone else gets hurt.
I catch Branson just as he’s leaving his chambers, his face set in that same grim expression he always wears.
“Ethan, are you okay?” The words tumble out of him. “I heard about what happened to Rhiannon.”
I nod. “She’s with Dr. Olcan now.”
“Good,” he says, already moving past me. “I’m going to check on Jayme again just to make sure he’s all right.”
“I’ll walk with you.” I step in beside him before he can argue.
The stone corridors stretch ahead of us in silence. Branson slows his long strides so I can keep up.
“Do you think this morning’s attack could be connected to what happened to Haron?” I ask.
He dismisses that notion with a wave. “Shouldn’t be. The Shaman know Jayme is locked up. He and I were meditating in the dungeons this morning.”
“Meditating? In the dungeons?”
“Of course. It will help him cope with the confinement.”
“That’s good,” I reply awkwardly.
“So,” Branson says, “you didn’t come to see me for casual conversation, did you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
He gives me a warm smile followed by a short rumble of laughter. “Well, they’re calling you ‘Truth Seer’ now, so I assume you’re always seeking the truth. What can I do to help you, Truth Seer?”
This is turning out to be easier than I imagined. But then again, Branson has never been hard to read. I don’t think he has anything guarded about him whatsoever.
“Well, I’m curious about Jayme’s health. What he told us has raised some questions about if he’s . . . well—”
“Healthy?”
“Yeah. I suppose.”
“Wouldn’t Olcan be better to ask about such things?”
“Yes, and I plan to. But do you know if there’s anything else? From birth or otherwise, that might affect Jayme. . .cognitively speaking?”
Branson keeps walking, but pins me with a look. “Cognitively speaking?” He says each word slowly, like he’s tasting something bad. “My brother is not crazy.”
“Of course. I know. But he says he doesn’t remember what happened. I’m just trying to figure out what could make him black out.”
He seems to relax a little, but says, “No. I’m not aware of any condition Jayme has that would cause something like that.”
“Maybe something that happened when you were kids? Like a head injury that’s only affecting him now.”
Branson shakes his head. “We’ve endured more than our fair share of hardships. We were taught to trust no one, and to train as if war was always on the horizon. But I can’t pinpoint any particular trauma Jayme suffered that I somehow escaped. Whatever shaped him shaped both of us, together.”
A slight twinge in Branson’s tone catches my ear. There’s more there. “So, Jayme. . . he’s like everyone else, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s like all other Lycans? There’s nothing about him that makes him different from you, or Akila or Conan or Rhiannon, that would have made him attack the Elder’s daughter, is there?”
Branson stops dead in his tracks, glaring at me now. I’ve insulted him.
“No,” he says like he’s slamming a door shut. “There is nothing.” He tilts his head sharply, challenging me. “So, what’s your assessment, then? Am I being truthful?”
This is where I should respond with “I’m asking the questions here,” but I have to remember that he could crush me like a bug with just his pinky.
“Branson, I’m not your enemy. I want to protect your pack by finding out the truth.”
“And I have told you the truth, as did Jayme.” Anger ripples across his face. “My brother did not do it. This investigation is a farce.”
Before I can respond, the alarm rings, clanging like a church bell and echoing throughout the fortress. We both look up to see guards running in the direction of the dungeons. We exchange glances, then follow them.
It doesn’t take long to catch up to them, because we’re only feet away when we see Holden stumbling out the door. He clutches his abdomen, blood seeping between his fingers. Branson rushes to him, catching him before he collapses into the dirt.
“Get Olcan. Now!”