Chapter 30 #2
Callum stops pacing, turns. “Third shift found animal carcasses by the creek. Wrong placement. No scavenger marks.” His voice comes out clipped, harder than necessary.
He pulls out his patrol rotation chart, spreading it across the table with more force than necessary. His finger jabs at the eastern sector. “And there’s this. I scheduled Derek’s team for the eastern perimeter at 0600. They never showed.”
“Where were they?” I ask.
“Running Marcus’s schedule.” His voice stays level, but barely. “Marcus created his own rotation. His wolves follow it instead of mine.”
The temperature in the room drops.
Ben shifts his weight. “How long?”
“Since Tuesday. Maybe longer.” Callum’s jaw works. “I only noticed when patrol overlap created a gap on the southern ridge. Nobody showed because both schedules assumed the other had it covered.”
Kari stops flipping through reports. “You confronted him?”
“This morning.” Callum’s tone turns bitter. “He said he was ‘just making sure coverage is complete.’ Reasonable explanation. Helpful even.”
“Except it’s insubordination,” I finish.
“Exactly.” Callum meets my eyes. “His wolves follow his schedule, not mine. When I give patrol assignments, they check with Marcus first. I’m not Gamma to half this pack anymore.”
The silence stretches. This isn’t personality conflict. This is operational breakdown. Two command structures can’t coexist.
“Options?” I ask, though I already know.
“Force compliance,” Callum says. “Make him submit to an official chain of command.”
“Which will cause an open break,” Ben adds quietly. “His faction will see it as persecution.”
“Or accept the division,” Callum continues, disgust creeping into his voice. “Let him run his wolves his way. Formalize the fracture.”
Either choice strengthens what Faelan’s been building. Force compliance, and I’m the tyrant Marcus warned them about. Accept division, and I’ve already lost.
Ben finally pushes off the wall. “Training rotations need adjustment. Four separate incidents this morning. Wolves snapping over nothing.”
“Nothing?” Callum’s laugh comes out harsh. “You were so fixated on the south field that Eli and Tomas nearly killed each other. By the time you noticed, they’d already drawn blood. And Alpha had to step in.”
Ben’s posture shifts, shoulders squaring. “Careful.”
“Or what?” Callum steps closer.
“Enough.” Kari doesn’t raise her voice. The coldness in it cracks like ice. “You’re all off your game and pretending it’s training fatigue.”
“And you’re not?” Ben challenges.
Kari’s eyes narrow. “I’m managing my shit.”
Callum scoffs. “Like you managed that perimeter breach yesterday?”
“That wasn’t—“
“Two more wolves came to the infirmary this morning,” Lyanna interrupts, finally turning from the cabinet. “Fighting over nothing. One needed stitches.” Her gaze moves between Callum and Ben. “This isn’t just happening in training.”
I let my wolf rise just enough; not a shift, but a promise. The scent of dominance rolls off me in waves.
I turn to Rafe, who hasn’t moved, hasn’t blinked. “You’ve seen this before.”
Rafe uncrosses his arms, straightens slightly. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? This isn’t magic. It’s rot. And they’re all feeding it.” His eyes scan each face in turn. “All of you.”
The room crackles with sudden, violent energy. Callum’s hands curl into fists. Kari goes completely still. Ben takes half a step forward.
“Where’s Nova?” I ask, changing course.
“Tracking something along the southern border,” Lyanna answers. “She felt a disturbance in the magical field. Said it wasn’t like the other fluctuations.”
“And she went alone?”
“You know Nova,” Lyanna says simply.
“Reports on the desk,” I say, voice deliberately level.
“Callum, take Wyatt and check the eastern perimeter markers again. Ben, training groups restructured by noon. Mix them up. Break the patterns.” I glance at Kari.
“Northern sweep with Reyna. Track the scent markers from the carcasses. Full detail.”
I turn to Rafe. “You’re with me.”
Then to Lyanna: “Check the water supply. Food stores. Anything that could be affecting the pack physically. Find Harper and have her help you.”
No one argues. No one questions. But the compliance feels thin, breakable.
As they file out, I catch the look Callum gives Lyanna—something between concern and frustration. She meets his gaze steadily before he turns away.
Lyanna stays behind, waiting until the others are gone.
“Nova said to tell you she’s following a specific energy signature,” she says quietly. “Something connecting the disturbances. She thinks it’s targeted, not random.”
I nod. “Keep me updated.”
“They’re all on edge,” Lyanna says. “More than they should be.”
“I know.”
“Even you.”
I don’t deny it. This is what command looks like at the edge—not control, just the illusion of it. Procedural motions while the ground shifts beneath us.
They’re not just irritable. They’re fracturing. And I can’t stop it with orders.
I walk west with Rafe, checking ward markers along the treeline. The silence between us isn’t comfortable. Not hostile either. Just watchful.
Rafe moves like someone who’s spent a lifetime reading landscapes before speaking. Each step precise, eyes constantly scanning. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t waste energy. Just moves with that unnerving economy that speaks of battles I haven’t fought.
My shoulders stay tight. I roll them once, twice. They don’t loosen.
“You said the eastern perimeter showed anomalies,” he says finally, crouching to examine a moss-covered rock with the ward sigil carved into its base. “But your wolves are looking in the wrong place.”
I stop, fold my arms. “And you know the right place?”
“I know the signs.” He straightens, eyes clear and cool. “The breach isn’t in the land. It’s in the pack.”
A spark of irritation flares under my ribs. “My pack is solid.”
Rafe just watches me, unblinking. The corner of his mouth quirks up, not a smile. A recognition.
“You never told me what happened to yours,” I say bluntly. “Not really.”
He looks past me toward the treeline. I expect him to deflect again. He doesn’t.
“My pack is gone,” he says simply. Not grief in his voice. Just fact. “Not dead. Gone. There’s a difference.”
He keeps walking. I follow, irritated at the position.
“You want to know what Faelan does?” Rafe asks quietly.
“He doesn’t need magic to break wolves. He just needs cracks.
Your Beta watches that girl from Shadow Peak like she’s the air he can’t breathe.
Your Gamma paces circuits when he thinks no one sees.
Your scouts check the same boundaries over and over, expecting different results. ”
My jaw tightens. “I know my pack’s pressure points. I don’t need an outsider cataloging them.”
“Knowing them and protecting them are different things.” Rafe pauses at another marker, checks it with methodical attention.
“My second thought her mate was Faelan. Killed her with his teeth in her throat before anyone could stop him. My fastest scout walked into the Fade believing it was home. Never came back.”
The words land cold in my gut. I think of Eli and Tomas this morning. The near violence over nothing.
“We’re not there,” I say, but my voice comes out harsher than intended.
“Not yet,” Rafe concedes. “But I’ve seen this before. First the tempers. Then the paranoia. Then the gaps in memory. Small at first. Where did I leave my knife? What order did Alpha give?” He pauses. “Why does my Beta flinch every time Harper walks by?”
I stop walking. “That’s pack business. Not yours.”
Rafe’s eyes narrow slightly, assessing. My defensive reaction told him exactly how deep that wound runs. My teeth grind together.
He glances toward the compound, then back to me. “Your wolves aren’t the only ones changing. Nova’s different since the Fade. You’ve noticed.”
“She’s healing,” I say flatly.
Rafe looks at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then he turns, continues walking the perimeter. His voice drifts back, quiet but clear.
“The moment you start fighting Nova instead of the thing inside her, you’ve already lost.”
I stand still. Jaw locked. Pulse loud in my ears.
Rafe walks ahead, leaving me behind. Not as a follower, but as someone forced to think.