Chapter Thirty Six （Dax's POV）
The chamber was loud with voices that pretended to be measured. They were nothing more than wolves baring their teeth.
I sat still, hands folded, jaw locked. On the outside, I looked like I belonged here. But every word blurred against the constant ache in my chest.
Kiera.
I hadn't seen her since she'd walked out of the library a week ago.
She hadn't looked back.
Not once.
The last thing I'd caught was the lift of her chin, that unflinching strength even when the air between us had been poisoned. I should've gone after her. Should've torn down every barrier the Council put up.
Instead, I let her go.
And now, while they sharpened blades for war against her people, I sat here silent and rotting from the inside out.
"We cannot delay," Alpha Bennet's shrill voice snapped me back, her hand cracking against the dark wood of the arm of her chair. "Every day wasted is another day the rogues tighten their grip on our packs. The Northern Circle is vulnerable. If we act swiftly, we end this before it spreads."
End this.
As if Kiera was just collateral. As if her home was a pawn to shuffle off the board.
"It's reckless," I said before I could stop myself. My voice carried, low but edged. "Charging into a territory we don't fully understand, with no alliance secured, no preparation. It's thoughtless."
A few heads turned. Bennet's cold, dark eyes fixed on me, hard as granite.
"Thoughtless?" she echoed, a mocking rumble beneath his words. "What's thoughtless is waiting until the rot seeps into our own lands. The North is already falling. They lack the numbers, the organization—"
"They don't lack strength," I cut in, teeth gritted.
The image of Kiera on the training field flashed sharp in my mind. The precision of her movements, the certainty in her commands, the way even seasoned wolves fell into step behind her. "They're not weak. We learned that the hard way during the last war."
Silence pressed heavy for a beat. Bennet's lip curled, and I could feel the disdain rolling off her.
"You speak as though you've forgotten where your loyalty lies," she said finally. "We are the Council. Not the Circle. We make the choices that protect all packs. Sentiment has no place here."
Sentiment.
The word sliced deeper than I wanted to admit. Because maybe it was sentiment that kept her face haunting me every night. The memory of her scent, wild and clean, sharp as snowmelt.
And I'd ruined it.
I forced my hands flat on the arms of my seat, nails biting into the polished wood. "It isn't sentiment to want a strategy that doesn't bleed us dry before we've even begun. We underestimate them, we underestimate the rogues, and we'll be at war longer than you think."
"Enough." Bennet's voice cracked like a whip. No one challenged her. "We move within days. That is the Council's decision. If you can't stomach it, you know where the door is."
My throat burned with the urge to argue, to bare my teeth and snap her smug certainty in two.
But I didn't.
I couldn't.
Every second wasted here was another second not knowing if she was safe.
I leaned back, muscles taut.
Kiera was out there, facing what was coming, and I was trapped in this den of posturing wolves, pretending I wasn't already at war with myself.
The Council chamber bled into silence one wolf at a time.
Chairs scraped. Voices lowered as decisions turned to orders, orders to inevitabilities.
I didn't stay for the lingering talk or the handshakes meant to mask sharpened claws. I pushed away from the table and walked out before the ink on their war was even dry.
My boots echoed down the corridor, each step harder, faster, my mind spinning with too many calculations.
What could I do?
If I defied the Council openly, I dragged my pack down with me.
If I obeyed, I marched against Kiera, against her family, against her land.
There was no move that didn't taste of ash.
No path that didn't end with me cutting her down or standing alone against them all.
Her face flickered in my thoughts. Icy eyes, pale hair, the stubborn lift of her chin when she refused to bend to anyone. The ache tightened until I couldn't breathe properly.
I'd lost her too many times. I wouldn't let the Council make me lose her again.
I needed time.
A way to stall their attack, something to hold them back long enough for me to reach her, to warn her.
"Dax."
Her voice slid down the corridor like oil.
Lyra.
I stilled, jaw tensing.
She moved from the shadows with a practiced sway, all long legs and the confidence of someone who thought the world bent for her. She looked at me like she still owned a piece of me.
She never had.
"You walked out so quickly," she purred, brushing invisible lint from her perfectly picked cream dress. "Didn't like the taste of victory?"
I didn't answer. My silence never bothered her; it only seemed to spur her on.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "The Council has made up their minds. The North will fall, Dax. But you don't have to. You could stand with Waxing Shadow, with me. Together, we'd have more than the scraps of power the Council doles out."
Her hand ghosted toward my arm. I shifted a fraction, just enough that her fingers touched air.
"Not interested," I said flatly.
Her lips curved, all faux sweetness hiding teeth. "Not interested in me? Or in protecting your pack? Because this is the smart play. I know you're ambitious. You've always wanted more. With me, you could have it. Recognition. Security. A future the Council couldn't take away."
I met her eyes, cold and unflinching. "You think I care about thrones and scraps when the North is about to burn? When people are going to die?"
"People die in every war," she said with a careless shrug, though her smile sharpened. "Better to be on the winning side when they do. Better to be untouchable. And you and I...we've always been good together. Why pretend otherwise?"
A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. "We were convenient, Lyra. That's all."
Her smile faltered for a heartbeat, then returned, thinner. "You'll regret this. When the Circle falls, when she falls, you'll wish you'd listened to me."
The words hit their mark, twisting in my gut, but I didn't let it show. I stepped past her, my voice low, clipped. "The only thing I regret is wasting my time with you in the first place."
I didn't look back. Couldn't.
Every step away from her, my thoughts dragged back to Kiera.
Strong. Unyielding. Standing on the edge of a war she didn't know was about to land at her door.
And me? I had hours, maybe days, to find a way to stop it. Or at least to get to her first.
Because if the Council thought they could use me to bring the Circle to its knees, they didn't understand yet.
I'd burn their whole war to the ground before I let them touch her.
The stench of Lyra's perfume still clung to me long after I'd left her behind.
Sweet, suffocating, and rotten at the core.
The thought that I'd ever wasted time with her left a sour taste in my mouth.
Kiera deserved better. She always had. And I had chosen politics and patience over tearing the world apart for her when I had the chance.
Now the Council was sharpening its blades, and all I could do was scramble to stop them.
No. Not all I could do.
There was one person who'd already made his position clear, who would never bow to the Council's decrees, who seemed to thrive on spitting in their faces.
Lucien.
The very thought of the vampire grated against me, his smug grins and razor-edged quips flashing in my mind. He frustrated me, needled me, knew exactly where to dig in his claws.
But beneath the arrogance, he'd already risked himself more than once to protect Kiera. Unlike the rest of the Council, Lucien never pretended to care about honor or alliances.
He just did whatever the hell he wanted.
Which meant he might be the only ally I had left.
I turned on my heel, not toward my quarters, not toward my pack.
Every instinct screamed at me to keep this quiet, to move before anyone saw.
The corridor dimmed as I stepped into the outer hall, the air colder, sharper.
I spotted him easily, slouched like a cat on a windowsill, moonlight catching the cut of his sharp face. He didn't even look up, but I knew he'd already heard me.
"Took you long enough," Lucien drawled, his voice rich with amusement. "I was wondering when you'd come crawling."
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to snap. "This isn't a game. The Council's moving on the North. I need to know what you've got planned."
Finally, he glanced at me, eyes gleaming red in the dark. A slow smile curved his mouth, sharp and dangerous.
"Oh, Dax," he murmured. "Now things are getting interesting."
What? Two updates so close together??
What do we think of Dax now? Has he redeemed himself?
We're so close to the end now! Only four more chapters!