Chapter 25 Come for Answers #2
After another pause, he continued, "And asking whether Ironfang intends to escalate."
Soren almost laughed at the word.
Escalate, as though Ironfang had been the one setting traps in ravines and as though eight dead wolves had somehow been an act of aggression.
The thought remained exactly that, and for once he kept it to himself.
The discussion continued as report followed report, revealing one uncertain alliance, another that was still waiting, a trade route under pressure, and rumors spreading across the region.
Each piece seemed manageable on its own, but together they formed something far worse: a pattern.
Vargan was building pressure slowly and deliberately, like a hunter tightening a snare.
Kael eventually looked up from the maps.
"We need to respond."
Several heads nodded immediately, which was hardly surprising since that was why they were here: to make decisions, to act, and to solve problems.
The room fell silent again as everyone waited for him.
Soren stared at the map spread across the table, tracing the roads, the borders, the villages, and the names.
Normally, ideas would already be forming in his mind—possibilities, plans, and responses.
Instead, he found himself remembering a narrow ravine, a warning, a disagreement, and eight dead wolves.
"We need to respond," Kael repeated, this time more carefully.
Soren realized that everyone was watching him again, as they always did.
The old irritation never came, but neither did the certainty.
There was only exhaustion and the uncomfortable awareness that the last decisive action he had taken had buried eight wolves.
For the first time in years, he did not trust his own instincts.
The realization settled heavily inside him, and perhaps that was the most alarming thing of all, because if he no longer trusted himself, what exactly was left?
Garrick shifted slightly, and the movement drew Soren's attention.
The captain said nothing and offered no advice, rescue, or judgment, yet somehow Soren remembered every warning from the previous days and every one he had ignored.
The silence stretched long enough for discomfort to settle around the room.
Finally, Soren spoke.
"We wait."
Several wolves blinked, clearly expecting something else—a plan, an order, a threat, or anything at all.
Instead, he repeated himself.
"We wait."
Kael frowned.
"Waiting is exactly what Vargan wants."
"Perhaps."
The answer came quietly.
"But I'm finished giving him what he wants."
The room fell silent once more, though this time for a different reason.
For the first time since Eira disappeared, Soren was no longer reacting, and nobody in the room seemed entirely certain whether that was a good sign or a bad one.
The council dispersed slowly, and no one seemed entirely satisfied, though no one appeared entirely dissatisfied either. The uncertainty hanging over Ironfang simply followed them out of the room, lingering in every departing conversation and every thoughtful glance exchanged between the wolves.
Before long, only three people remained.
Soren, Garrick, and Kael.
The map still covered most of the table, crowded with roads, borders, villages, and problems, and there seemed to be far too many of all four. Soren stared at it without really seeing any of it.
When footsteps approached, he didn't need to look up.
"You've been talking about me."
The words left his mouth before either man had a chance to speak.
The silence that followed was answer enough.
Soren almost smiled.
"At least have the decency to deny it."
Kael pulled out a chair and sat down.
"I considered it."
"And?"
"You would've known I was lying."
It was a fair point, unfortunately.
Garrick remained standing with his arms folded, watching him with the same steady attention he always seemed to possess. Soren was beginning to dislike it.
"What do you want?"
Neither of them answered immediately, which by itself was unusual. Normally, one of them would have already started arguing.
Eventually, Kael spoke.
"We're worried."
The directness caught Soren off guard, though he was careful not to show it.
"Worried."
"Yes."
The answer came from Garrick this time, delivered with a simplicity and steadiness that somehow made it even more irritating.
Soren looked back toward the map.
"I survived."
"That's not what we're talking about."
Of course it wasn't.
The silence stretched between them until Garrick finally stepped closer. He did so not as a captain addressing his alpha and not as a subordinate speaking to his leader, but as someone who had known Soren for most of his life. That made what came next considerably harder to dismiss.
"You can't keep doing this alone."
There it was at last—the real reason for the conversation neither man had wanted to start and the conversation Soren had no interest in having.
His jaw tightened.
"I don't remember asking for help."
"No," Kael replied, leaning back slightly. "You usually don't."
The irritation arrived immediately, sharp, predictable, and almost comfortingly familiar.
"I appreciate the observation."
"We aren't criticizing you."
The words came from Garrick.
Soren let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Really."
"No."
The captain's expression never changed.
"We're trying to stop you from destroying yourself."
The room became very still.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Soren felt something cold tighten inside his chest. It wasn't anger, at least not entirely. It felt closer to humiliation, because they weren't wrong and because they knew it.
"The council is over."
The dismissal came quietly, but there was enough danger beneath it to make the meaning unmistakable.
Neither man moved. That was probably a mistake. Kael folded his arms.
"Eight wolves are dead."
The words landed harder than Soren expected, not because they sounded like an accusation, but because they didn't. They were simply a fact, and lately everyone seemed very fond of facts.
"We know why it happened."
Soren slowly lifted his eyes.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
"Careful."
Kael held his gaze and, to his credit, did not look away.
"You stopped listening."
The words hung in the air with a brutal simplicity that made them impossible to ignore.
Soren rose from his chair, and its legs scraped sharply across the stone floor.
Both men remained exactly where they were. Neither reached for a weapon, and neither stepped back, which somehow made everything worse.
The mark burned beneath his skin, sending a hot pulse through his ribs.
For one terrible second, he wanted them to argue. He wanted them to shout, to accuse him, to give him something easier to fight.
Instead, Garrick spoke quietly.
"You think this is about weakness."
Silence settled over the room.
"You think we're questioning whether you're capable."
Another pause followed.
"We're not."
The captain's gaze remained steady.
"We're questioning how much longer you can keep carrying all of this by yourself."
For the first time since the conversation began, Soren had no answer.
The realization irritated him more than anything else because part of him already knew the truth and had known it for quite some time.
The room fell silent once more, and this time no one seemed eager to break it.
Three wolves stood around one table inside one fortress, facing a truth all of them had finally stopped pretending not to see.
Eventually Kael exhaled, and the sound seemed unusually loud in the silence that followed.
For a moment, nobody moved before he finally pushed away from the table.
"We didn't come here to fight with you."
Soren said nothing, and Kael clearly wasn't expecting an answer.
He glanced toward Garrick, and a silent exchange passed between them that Soren noticed immediately, another thing they no longer bothered hiding, which he found both interesting and irritating.
Garrick finally unfolded his arms.
"We'll follow whatever decision you make."
The words should have been reassuring, yet they felt heavier than most threats.
The captain continued, his voice steady.
"But you don't have to make every one of them alone."
Soren looked away, focusing instead on the map and the mountains drawn across the parchment rather than either of the men standing before him.
Neither man pressed further, perhaps because they finally understood there was nothing left to say, or perhaps because they simply knew him too well.
Kael moved toward the door first, with Garrick following a moment later.
Just before leaving, the captain stopped without turning around or looking back.
"You were right about one thing."
The words drew Soren's attention as Garrick's hand rested briefly against the door.
"We can't keep reacting forever."
A brief silence settled between them before he added,
"But eventually we're going to need a better answer than waiting."
The door closed behind them, and the chamber fell silent once more.
For several moments, Soren remained exactly where he was, alone again.
The map still covered the table, the roads remained unchanged, the borders remained unchanged, and the problems remained unchanged.