Chapter 27
Merric
Three days at Frostbourne, and the fault lines are deepening. The pack has settled into an uneasy partition. My loyalists—Petra, Karl, the Hale family, most of the wolves under thirty—have accepted Brenna with varying degrees of warmth.
Petra invited her to lead a sparring session yesterday, and Brenna moved through the drills with a skill that turned skepticism into respect by the time she put Petra on her back in under four seconds.
Word travels fast in a pack. By evening, three more wolves asked to train with her.
Torsten watched the whole session from the fence rail without saying a word.
When Brenna finished, he gave her a single nod and walked away.
From Torsten, that’s practically an ovation.
The traditionalists have gone silent. Not in the way that means acceptance. In the way that means organizing.
Edda requested a formal council session this morning.
As a seated elder, she has the right. Karl Harwick and I are the other two Frostbourne council members; Karl’s solid, but Edda needs only one external ally to force a confidence review, and Bern’s voice carries weight across every council seat in the south.
The session is held in the lodge’s back room. Small table, scarred oak, older than any of us. Three chairs. A window that faces the mountains, letting in cold morning light that makes the room feel like a courtroom. Jonas stands against the wall as witness, face giving away nothing.
Edda arrives exactly on time. She sets a leather folder on the table. Tabbed, organized, documentation that takes days to assemble. She’s been preparing since before I came home. Maybe since I left.
She lays out her case with the care of a woman who knows that the strongest arguments sound reasonable.
My extended absence. The unilateral decision to commit Frostbourne resources, personnel, and vehicles to an external operation without council approval.
The sealed mate bond with a magic-blooded wolf; an act that, under traditional pack law, should have required elder consultation.
She cites precedent. She cites three historical cases where alphas made bonding decisions that affected pack stability. She has dates. She has outcomes.
“In 1987, Alpha Elliot of the Ironbark pack bonded with a wolf from a hostile territory without consulting his elders,” she says, turning a page. “The political fallout destabilized three border agreements. Ironbark lost forty percent of its territory.”
“Brenna isn’t from hostile territory.”
“She’s from Ravenclaw. To half the southern packs, that is hostile territory.
” Edda looks at me over the folder. “I’m not questioning your right to mate, Merric.
I’m questioning the process. An alpha who makes decisions of this magnitude without consulting his council creates a precedent.
If you can bond with a Ravenclaw witch unilaterally, what else can you do without our input? ”
“Protect my pack. That’s what I did at Ravenclaw, and that’s what I’m doing now.”
“By bringing the threat inside our walls?”
“Brenna isn’t a threat.”
“Her presence has already split this pack. That’s not an opinion, Merric. That’s a fact. I’ve spoken with fourteen wolves in the last three days who’ve expressed concerns ranging from discomfort to outright opposition. Those aren’t fringe voices. Those are your wolves.”
Karl clears his throat. He’s been observing until now; a man in his sixties with weathered features and the patient demeanor of someone who’s survived decades of pack politics by listening more than he speaks.
“Edda, the concerns are legitimate. Nobody’s disputing that.
But some of those concerns are based on fear rather than evidence.
Brenna Corvus has been here three days, and in that time she’s done nothing except train our fighters and walk the perimeter.
If that’s what a threat looks like, I’d like more of them. ”
Edda turns to him. “Exactly. She walked our perimeter, Karl. Checked our defenses. Noted our blind spots. And you find that reassuring?”
“I find it professional. We have blind spots. Someone who identifies them is useful, not dangerous.”
“Unless she’s sharing what she finds with someone outside these walls.”
The insinuation doesn’t land well. Karl’s eyes harden. Even Jonas shifts against the wall.
“Be careful, Edda,” I say. My voice is soft. Soft is more effective than loud in a room this small.
“I’m being careful. I’m being more careful than you’ve been since you left.
” She holds my eyes. No flinching. “I’m not accusing your mate of espionage.
I’m pointing out that an intelligence-trained wolf from a rival bloodline is now inside our compound with full access to our layout, our personnel, and our alpha.
If any other wolf presented that profile, you’d flag it yourself. ”
She’s right. I hate that she’s right, and I hate more that I can’t dismiss her argument as prejudice because there’s a legitimate governance question underneath the fear.
An alpha who acts alone, who bonds without consultation, who commits pack resources to external operations without a vote—that’s exactly the type of unchecked authority that pack councils exist to prevent.
Edda isn’t wrong about the principle. She’s wrong about the person, and the gap between those two things is where all the damage lives.
“The council will have input going forward,” I say. “On strategy, on resource allocation, on the political implications. But my mate is not a policy decision.”
Karl nods. Edda’s poise doesn’t change.
“I’d like to propose a formal review period,” she says. “Thirty days. During which the council assesses the security implications of the Corvus presence at Frostbourne. Standard protocol.”
“Standard protocol for what? We’ve never had a situation like this.”
“Exactly my point. We’re in uncharted territory, and uncharted territory requires careful navigation.” She folds her hands on the table. The leather folder sits between us like a battle plan. “Thirty days, Merric. That’s all I’m asking. A review. Not a judgment.”
It’s reasonable. That’s the trap; it’s perfectly, infuriatingly reasonable.
Thirty days of official scrutiny. Thirty days for Edda to build a case, interview wolves, document every interaction.
Thirty days for Bern to maneuver from outside while his ally works from within.
And if I refuse, I’m the alpha who won’t submit to accountability. Edda wins either way.
“Twenty,” I say. “And the review is conducted by all three council seats, not delegated to a subcommittee. Everything in the open.”
“Agreed,” Edda says. No hesitation. She wanted twenty. The thirty was the opening position. I walked into the negotiation she designed, and she let me feel like I won something.
Karl approves, though his eyes tell me he sees the same thing I do. The session closes. Edda gathers her folder, stands, and leaves with the composed satisfaction of a woman who got exactly what she came for while appearing to compromise.
Jonas catches my arm in the hallway. The lodge is empty. Breakfast has been cleared, the kitchen crew gone. It’s oddly still.
“She’s running interference for Bern,” he says.
“I know.”
“The twenty days give her time to build a coalition. She’ll interview every wolf in the compound. The ones who are nervous, she’ll turn cautious. The ones who are cautious, she’ll turn opposed. By the time the review period ends, she’ll have enough support to push for a confidence vote.”
“And if the confidence vote succeeds, I lose my council standing. Frostbourne’s protected status becomes vulnerable. Bern moves in with whatever external authority he’s been building.”
“That’s the play.”
“Then we have twenty days to make the play irrelevant.”
Jonas studies me. “How?”
“By making Brenna so essential to this pack’s security that removing her becomes unthinkable.”
He considers this. Nods slowly. “She’s already making headway in the training yard. Petra’s people respect her. If we can get her integrated into the patrol rotation, the defensive planning—”
“Do it. And Jonas… the vehicles on the logging roads. What’s the latest?”
His shoulders tighten. “One of the scouts tracked them again last night. Three SUVs, unmarked, north approach. Different clearing this time. They’re rotating positions, marking the territory from multiple angles.”
“Different clearing, same distance.”
“They’re not just checking rotations. I think they’re building a complete operational picture: patrol shifts, blind spots, approach corridors.”
The same blind spots Brenna identified on her walk. The ones Edda accused her of monitoring for someone else. The irony would be funny if it weren’t dangerous.
I rub the back of my neck. “I need some time to think this through,” I tell him before turning and walking away.
I spend the afternoon on the things that make a pack work.
Supply review with the store manager: winter stores are solid, but medical supplies need restocking, and the generator that powers the east cabins is overdue for maintenance.
Boundary patrol with the scouts, checking markers, reading scent lines.
The neighboring pack has stayed within their bounds, but there’s fresh elk sign along the creek that will draw their hunters close, and close is where disputes start.
Then the Hale family. Tom and Sarah, mid-forties, good wolves.
Their daughter Mira is fourteen and just faced her first shift.
I was supposed to be here for it. The alpha’s presence steadies a young wolf through the change, anchors them to the pack bond during the most disorienting experience of their lives.
My absence meant Mira’s shift happened without her alpha.
The guilt of that sits heavily when Tom grips my hand and says, “She managed. Jonas was good. But she asked for you.”
“I’m here now,” I say. “I’ll work with her tomorrow.”