Chapter 14 #2
“Rowen,” I spoke, voice quieter. She looked up, eyes unguarded, open. “I don’t think you’re a traitor,” I murmured, and I saw the look of relief followed by a small, happy smile she failed to hide. “I’ll see you soon, princess.”
“Okay,” she said. Almost warmly. She reached forward, about to hang up—then paused. “Wolfe?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to sleep. Even alphas bleed.”
The screen went black before I could ask if that was a warning or encouragement to rest.
The room off the pack hall where Malric used to hold his council meetings smelled like old smoke and older opinions.
They were already seated when I walked in—three of them, hunched in their chairs, wearing robes like that made them wise, not tired. Murrow sat in the center, flanked by Mella and Corrin. All three had run the Hollow before I came back. All three had survived by playing the long game.
I didn’t sit.
“You asked for a meeting,” I said flatly.
Mella’s mouth pinched like she’d swallowed something bitter. “We were hoping to discuss the recent…atmosphere…in Blueridge Hollow.”
Murrow cleared his throat. “Specifically, your approach to internal discipline.”
I arched a brow. “Internal discipline?”
Corrin leaned forward. “Dragging a packmate into the cells. Using your Will over them. Sending families away—”
“He was using his son to pass messages to the enemy,” I snapped.
“And that message nearly handed over the names of three of our patrols. Would you prefer I let him finish the job first?” I looked at each of them.
“He threatened to hurt his youngest child if his son didn’t comply.
He allowed another male into their home to rape his wife.
I sent the family away from here to give them the chance to heal. ”
A beat of silence.
“Well…I don’t know about all that. But you’re being heavy-handed,” Mella said carefully. “There’s fear spreading through the pack. You can feel it.”
“Good,” I said as my wolf growled under my skin. “Fear is the first step to awareness.”
Corrin scowled. “Fear is not loyalty.”
“No,” I said. “But right now, loyalty’s being bought with abuse and threats. And if fear of me keeps one wolf from selling out another, I’ll take it until I can dig out the rot.”
Murrow folded his hands. “This isn’t Stonefang, Wolfe.”
“No, it’s not Stonefang; this shit wouldn’t be happening in Stonefang,” I said, stepping closer. “And it will not continue here. Like Stonefang, this is my pack.”
His jaw tensed. The others didn’t speak. I let the silence stretch, then dropped the next blow.
“Solana told me everything, not because she saw me use my Will. Not because of the kindness I showed her. Not because of the fact that her abusive husband was under my beta’s boot. But because she saw what happens when someone who’s spent years being silent gets their voice back.”
Corrin frowned. “You can’t fix everything with force.”
“I don’t intend to,” I said. “But I will use it when I need to. And if that makes the rest of the pack uneasy, they can get over it or get out.”
Murrow’s eyes narrowed. “So we’re back to ruling through fear, then?”
“No,” I said. “We’re back to ruling like someone who gives a damn whether this pack makes it to next season in one piece.”
Mella shifted in her seat, eyes sharp. “And what about Rowen?”
I paused. “What about her?”
“She’s not here, and she does not wear your mark. You’re leading without your bonded mate at your side. It makes you look unstable.”
I stepped forward. Close enough that the air thickened. “You think Rowen not here makes me unfit?”
“I think you’re volatile.”
“Good,” I said, teeth flashing. “Because for the first time in years, this pack is waking the fuck up.”
No one spoke. I turned on my heel and walked out. Let them grumble. Let them scheme.
I wasn’t here to coddle tradition.
The druid was waiting when I got back to my office, hood drawn back, hands in their lap.
Their robes dusted with pine needles and ash, like they’d come from the forest. “The crones are in the other room,” I snapped at them, striding across the floor.
I stepped behind the desk and sat down heavily. “You heard,” I said.
“I did.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “They’re worried I’m too heavy-handed,” I said with a snort. “I told them what that family had been through, and they reprimanded me for being heavy-handed.”
“They’re right,” they said calmly.
I watched them with a narrow glare. “You came in here just to agree with them?”
“No,” they answered simply. “I came to ask if you know why you’re doing it.”
“Why am I doing what? Protecting the Hollow?”
“Are you?” They sat back. “Or are you punishing it?”
I laughed. It sounded as bitter as I felt. “You think I want this? You think I enjoy dragging traitors by their throats into the dirt?”
“I think you’re worried,” they said equally as sharply. “And when nervous men are handed power, they become one of two things—gods or monsters.”
I didn’t reply, fury pounding beneath my skin like a steady, heavy drumbeat.
The druid continued, head tilted slightly. “I’m worried about you for other reasons…” They watched me closely. “You’ve been gone too long from your other half.”
“She’s not a half,” I said sharply. “She’s her own damn person.”
“Exactly. And you’re walking around like you’re not starving without her.
” Their lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
“This is not what is needed right now. Separation is not helping. With the discoveries that you’ve made recently, the pack is unsettled.
Too much change makes reclusive wolves nervous. ”
I felt the bond pulse—not painfully. Just there. Present. Alive. “I’m doing what needs to be done. I’m doing what needs to be done for this pack.”
“That bond you’re both pretending not to feel?” They raised their brow. “It’ll pull. Harder. Tighter. Until one of you breaks. It will not be pretty.” The druid leaned forward. “The Goddess wants her two chosen mates united. Only together will you give the pack balance.”
I didn’t answer.
“You’re bleeding into the Hollow, Wolfe. Rage, frustration, loneliness—your pack feels it. They don’t want to be another pack where the alpha leads by sheer force. They need an alpha who knows when to bend.”
I stared at them. I could remind them that we were under attack. Or that there were traitors amidst us. Or that shifters in this pack were overlooked because they were too intimidated to speak up. Instead, I asked them a question. “And what if I don’t know how to bend?”
The druid smiled. Not cruel. Not soft, either. “Then start by admitting you’re willing to try.” They stood and turned to go, robes whispering over the stone. Over their shoulder, they spoke. “Bring back the daughter of the Hollow. It needs her as much as you do.”
The door closed behind them silently, but it may as well have slammed shut, their words echoing loudly in the silence.
Was she ready to come back? It wasn’t the question I needed to ask. Of course she was. She had never wanted to leave.
The question I needed to ask was, was I ready to let her come back?