Chapter 10 - Patrick
She’s giving me ten minutes to justify sixteen years of hell, but fuck, I’ll take it.
I pull out the chair across from her and sit down, keeping the width of the table between us.
The fire crackles behind me, throwing heat against my back, but I barely feel it.
All my attention is on the woman in front of me.
My wolf wants me to reach for her, to close the distance and make her understand through touch what words might fail to convey.
I keep him leashed and start talking instead.
“I was born in the Eastern Reaches,” I begin.
“A small pack called Silverbend. We had maybe forty wolves, a decent stretch of territory along a river valley, and leadership that actually gave a damn about the people under their care. My father was one of the alpha’s closest advisors.
He used to take me hunting on weekends, just the two of us, and tell me stories about our ancestors while we tracked deer through the morning mist.”
Caelan’s arms stay folded across her chest, but she doesn’t interrupt. The mate bond carries a hint of curiosity beneath all that anger, so I continue.
“We weren’t wealthy or powerful. We didn’t have Amanzite reserves or strategic territory that other packs coveted.
What we had was community. Neighbors who looked out for each other.
Elders who taught the young ones our history and traditions.
A place where everyone mattered, not just the strongest or the most ruthless.
” I pause, letting the memories come back to me.
“Thornridge came for us when I was twelve. They wanted our territory because their own lands had gone barren thanks to decades of overuse and poor management that had stripped the soil, driven away the game, and left them with nothing but rocks and dust. So they decided to take what they needed from someone else.”
“Just like that? They just showed up and took over?”
“They sent an emissary first. A wolf named Harken who made promises everyone knew he couldn’t keep.
He offered us a choice. Join Thornridge voluntarily and keep some autonomy, or refuse and face the consequences.
” My hands curl into fists beneath the table where she can’t see them.
“Our alpha told Harken exactly where he could shove his offer. A week later, Thornridge attacked.”
The memories surface like bodies rising from deep water. I haven’t talked about this in years. I haven’t even let myself think about it if I could help it. But Caelan deserves to know where I come from, even if the telling costs me more than I want to admit.
“My father fought. A lot of wolves did. They knew surrender meant losing everything we’d built, everything our ancestors had sacrificed to create.
So they drew a line at the river crossing and dared Thornridge to come across.
Mordaunt’s father was alpha back then. He was a wolf named Crassus who made his son look gentle by comparison.
He crossed that line before the sun finished rising. ”
“What happened?”
“Slaughter. Twenty-three of our wolves died in a single night. My father was one of them. I watched Crassus tear out his throat while my mother held me back with her hand clamped over my mouth so I wouldn’t scream and give away our position in the brush where we were hiding.
She made me watch my father die and kept me silent through all of it because she knew that screaming would get us killed, too. ”
Caelan’s arms loosen a bit, though they don’t unfold.
“After the fighting stopped, the survivors were given that same choice. Join Thornridge or die. My mother chose to live.” I swallow against the tightness in my throat.
“She remarried six months later. One of Crassus’s warriors, a man named Gregor who needed a wife to improve his standing in the pack hierarchy.
He wasn’t cruel, not exactly, but he never let us forget that we existed at his sufferance.
My mother did what she had to do to keep us safe.
I’ve never blamed her for that, even when I was young enough and angry enough to want someone to blame. ”
“And you just accepted that? Your father’s killers became your new family?”
“I was twelve, Caelan. I didn’t have a choice.
Neither did she. The first few years, I hated every second of it.
I used to lie awake at night planning how I’d kill Crassus, how I’d avenge my pack and everyone we lost. I memorized the faces of every wolf who participated in the attack and swore I’d make them pay when I was old enough and strong enough to do it.
But children don’t stay angry forever. Eventually, the hatred just becomes background noise you learn to ignore because the alternative is letting it consume you. ”
“That doesn’t explain how you became one of them. How you went from a conquered child to a Thornridge warrior.”
“It was a matter of survival. Thornridge doesn’t tolerate weakness.
If you’re not useful, you’re disposable.
Absorbed wolves who can’t contribute get the worst assignments and the most dangerous missions, the scraps left over after everyone else has eaten.
So I made myself useful. I trained harder than anyone else, fought better than anyone else, and followed orders without question or complaint.
By the time I was eighteen, I’d earned a place in the pack.
The wolves who used to sneer at me for being absorbed started treating me like one of their own. ”
“And you liked that? Being accepted by the people who destroyed your home?”
“I needed it.” I rest back in my chair and let out a slow breath.
“You have to understand how Thornridge operates. They don’t just conquer territory.
They conquer minds. From the moment I joined, I was fed a constant stream of propaganda about how we’d been wronged, how other packs had pushed us out of fertile lands generations ago, and how everything we took was just reclaiming what should have been ours in the first place.
The elders told stories about ancient betrayals and stolen birthrights.
The warriors talked about honor and justice and righteous vengeance.
After a while, you start believing it. You start thinking that maybe the things you do are justified because you’re on the right side of history. ”
Caelan narrows her eyes. “You’re telling me you thought attacking innocent packs was justified?”
“I thought it was necessary. I convinced myself there was somehow a difference between the two. Crassus died five years ago, and when his son took over, things got worse. The old alpha was brutal, but he was practical. He only attacked when there was something concrete to gain. Thane Mordaunt attacks because he enjoys watching others suffer. He dresses it up in the same language his father used and talks about reclaiming what’s ours and punishing our enemies, but underneath all the rhetoric, he just likes causing pain. ”
“And Bastian?”
The name sends a spike of anger through my chest. My wolf growls low in response, sharing my hatred for the man who tried to use Raegan the way he wanted to use Caelan.
“Bastian Corvelli is the worst of all of them. The old guard at least pretends to care about the pack’s survival, about building something that will last beyond their own lifetimes.
Bastian just likes hurting people. He’s Mordaunt’s illegitimate son, raised from birth to believe he’s entitled to whatever he wants, and what he wants most is to watch others break.
” I shake my head and add, “I worked alongside him for years before I finally admitted to myself what he really was.”
“What changed your mind?”
“A mission in the Southern Territories, a couple of months back. We were supposed to gather intelligence on a pack that had something Mordaunt wanted, information about Amanzite deposits they’d discovered.
Bastian’s approach to gathering intelligence involved torturing a young wolf who couldn’t have been older than sixteen.
The kid had information we needed, names and locations and security details, and he gave it all up within the first twenty minutes.
” My stomach turns at the memory, and bile rises in my throat.
“Bastian didn’t stop when the kid started talking.
He kept going for another hour, just because he could.
Just because he wanted to see how much pain one body could hold before it gave out entirely. ”
Caelan’s face has gone pale. The mate bond carries her horror, her revulsion, and beneath it all, a growing understanding.
“I stood there and watched. Didn’t say a word.
Didn’t try to stop it. I told myself that interfering would get me killed, that there was nothing I could do, and the kid was already doomed, and my death wouldn’t save him.
That night, I looked in the mirror and couldn’t recognize the man staring back at me.
I’d become exactly what I swore I’d never be. A monster wearing my father’s face.”
The fire pops behind me, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Outside, the wind has picked up, and tree branches scrape against the cabin walls like fingers searching for a way inside.
“That’s when you started wanting out?”
“That’s when I started paying attention.
Really paying attention, not just going through the motions.
” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table.
“I noticed which wolves followed orders because they were afraid and which ones followed because they actually believed in what we were doing. The second group is smaller than you’d think.
Most of Thornridge is made up of wolves like me, people who got absorbed or recruited young and never saw another option.
They do terrible things because the alternative is becoming a victim themselves. ”
“That’s not an excuse.”