Chapter 15 Dangerously Falling
DANGEROUSLY FALLING
DANIEL
The whispers started small.
I felt them more than heard them. That particular shift in pack dynamics when wolves stopped talking the moment I entered a room, when conversations died mid-sentence and eyes went carefully neutral.
Not hostile. Just concerned. The way pack worried about their Alpha when they thought he might be making a mistake.
Luke was the first to say it out loud.
We were in the war room going over patrol reports when he set down his coffee and fixed me with that level stare that said this wasn't going to be a comfortable conversation.
The bruise along his jaw had faded to yellow-green, almost healed now, but I could still see the stiffness in how he moved.
The pack run attack had left marks on all of us.
“The pack's worried,” he said without preamble.
“About Rafe.”
“About the speed of it.” Luke's voice was careful. Respectful. But firm. “I'm not questioning your authority, Daniel. I'm bringing you what the pack's too nervous to say themselves.”
I set down my own coffee. My ribs protested the movement, still tender from where a rogue had caught me during the ambush.
Wolf healing was a blessing, but even we needed time.
Gideon had been running himself ragged the past few days, moving from wolf to wolf, using his magic to speed along what our bodies couldn't handle fast enough on their own.
“Who's talking?”
“Maren. Alaric. A few of the seniors.” He held up a hand before I could respond. “They're not challenging you. They're worried. And honestly? Half of them are still too banged up to challenge anyone right now.”
He wasn't wrong. The attack during the pack run had caught us off guard.
Jonah was still limping. Sienna had claw marks down her back that Gideon said would take another day to fully close. Even Alaric, who'd never admit weakness if his life depended on it, was moving slower than usual.
“I know there is a difference between worried and challenging.” I rubbed a hand over my face, careful to avoid the cut above my eyebrow that was still knitting itself together. “And I appreciate you telling me instead of letting it fester.”
Luke blinked. Whatever response he'd been expecting, that wasn't it.
“Here's the thing,” I said. “You're not wrong to be cautious.
After Calder, after everything we've been through, after what happened three nights ago, suspicion is smart.
It's kept us alive.” I met his eyes. “But Rafe lost his entire pack.
We went to Ash Hollow. We saw what was left. That kind of trauma doesn't fake well.”
“I know. I'm not saying he's lying about what happened to him.” Luke shifted in his chair, grimacing when the movement pulled at something still healing.
“But the timing, Daniel. He shows up, and then a week later we get ambushed during a pack run? Rogues that moved wrong, just like the ones that were chasing him?”
“You think he led them to us.”
“I think it's possible. And I think you're too smart not to have considered it yourself.”
He was right. I had considered it. Had been considering it since the moment those rogues burst out of the tree line and started tearing into my wolves. Had wondered if the timing was coincidence or consequence.
“I have,” I admitted. “And here's what I decided. If Rafe is a threat, I'd rather have him inside our borders where I can watch him than outside where I can't. If someone's using him as a weapon, the best way to disarm that weapon is to make him loyal to us instead.”
“And if that doesn't work?”
“Then I'll handle it.” I held Luke's gaze. “Personally. Whatever needs to be done, I'll do it myself. No one else has to carry that weight.”
Luke studied me for a long moment. Behind him, through the window, I could see wolves moving across the grounds.
Slower than usual. More careful. Gideon had set up a makeshift treatment area in the common room, and there was a steady stream of pack members checking in for follow-up care.
Our healer looked exhausted, but he hadn't stopped working since the attack.
“You're betting a lot on being right,” Luke said finally.
“I'm betting on the fact that treating a traumatized wolf with suspicion and isolation is a good way to turn him into exactly what we're afraid of.” I stood, moved to the window where gray afternoon light filtered through.
My leg twinged, reminder of a bite that had gone deep before I'd managed to tear the rogue's throat out.
“We bring him in. We give him a place. We show him what pack is supposed to feel like.
And if I'm wrong, if he turns out to be something other than what he seems, then you have my word. I'll be the one to put him down.”
“You'd do that?” Luke asked quietly.
“If he threatens my pack? Without hesitation.” I turned back to face him. “But I'm not going to treat a grieving wolf like a criminal just because his survival was convenient. That's not who we are, Luke. That's not who I want us to be.”
“Even after what happened at the run? Mason's still in bed. Sienna can barely lift her arms.”
“Even after.” My voice came out harder than I intended. “The rogues that attacked us, they were the same kind that were chasing Rafe. Which means whoever sent them after his pack is now sending them after ours. That's not Rafe's fault. That's someone else declaring war.”
Luke was quiet. Processing. I could see him weighing the options, running scenarios, doing exactly what a good Beta should do. His hand came up to touch his bruised jaw, unconscious gesture.
“Talk to Maren and Alaric,” I said. “Tell them I hear their concerns. Tell them I'm not blind to the risks. And tell them that if this goes sideways, they can hold me accountable. Every bit of it lands on my shoulders. That's what being Alpha means.”
“And if they're still worried?”
“Then they can come to me directly. My door's open. It always has been.” I allowed myself a small smile, felt the cut on my lip pull with the expression. “I'd rather have wolves who question me than wolves who stay silent when something's wrong. That's how packs survive.”
Luke nodded slowly. Something in his posture eased, tension draining out of shoulders that had been braced for confrontation and probably still ached from the fight.
“I'll talk to them,” he said. “And Daniel? For what it's worth, I hope you're right. The kid's been through hell. We all have, lately. Be nice if someone got a chance to come out the other side.”
“That's the plan.”
He gathered the patrol reports and headed for the door, moving with the careful gait of someone whose body was still putting itself back together. Then he paused with his hand on the frame.
“You're a good Alpha,” he said quietly. “Even when you're making choices I don't understand. The pack knows that. They're just scared. Especially now, with everyone still healing.”
“Fear's reasonable. It's what we do with it that matters.”
Luke left, and I stood alone in the war room, feeling the weight of leadership settle back onto shoulders that ached from more than just the fight.
Through the window, I watched Gideon emerge from the common room, wiping his hands on a cloth, looking like he hadn't slept in days. He caught my eye, gave me a weary nod that said the pack would recover but it would take time.
Time we might not have, if whoever had sent those rogues decided to press their advantage.
The pack was worried. That was fair.
But worry wasn't the same as doubt, and I'd take concerned wolves over complacent ones any day.
I went back to the patrol reports, ignoring the way my ribs protested every breath, and if my thoughts drifted to Rafe more than they should have, to amber eyes and grief that felt too real to be performance, well.
That was my burden to carry.
Not theirs.
Michael was already at the desk when I arrived at the mill, surrounded by ledgers and invoices and the organized chaos of someone who actually understood numbers.
He had reading glasses on, which was new, and they made him look distinguished in a way that did absolutely nothing to help my concentration.
“You're early,” I said.
He looked up, and something in his expression made my chest tight. Warm. Present. Like seeing me was the best part of his morning, and he wasn't bothering to hide it anymore.
“Couldn't sleep. Figured I'd get a head start on the quarterly projections.” He gestured at the papers spread across the desk. “Also, your coffee maker is better than mine.”
“Is that the only reason you keep showing up?”
“One of several.” His mouth quirked. “The company's not bad either.”
I moved to the coffee maker in question, poured myself a cup I didn't really need. Anything to have something to do with my hands that wasn't reaching for him.
“What's the verdict on the projections?”
“Better than I expected, actually.” Michael shuffled through some papers, found the one he wanted.
“Your profit margins are solid. Supply contracts are locked in at rates below current market, which means you're making more per board foot than most mills your size. Whoever negotiated those deals knew what they were doing.”
“That would be Jake. I just sign where he tells me.”
“Don't sell yourself short.” Michael's eyes found mine over the rim of his glasses. “You've built something real here. Something that matters to this town.”
I settled into the chair across from him, cradling my coffee. “But?”
“But your record-keeping is still a war crime, and if you don't start tracking inventory weekly instead of whenever you remember, you're going to end up with supply gaps that cost more to fix than they would to prevent.” He pulled out a notebook, flipped to a page covered in his neat handwriting.
“I've drafted a system. Nothing complicated. Just consistent.”
“You drafted a system.”