13. Whose side you're on?
"What happens next?" I ask, hating how vulnerable the question makes me sound.
Whatever the Council decides," he replies cryptically and leaves.
I stand there for a moment before walking back to the room.
I lie down on the bed after taking off my shoes.
Sleep feels impossible. Outside, voices rise and fall—sometimes hushed, sometimes heated.
I can make out fragments of words and phrases.
Occasionally I hear a growl or a snarl that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
They thought they sent the most incompetent Communicator, thinking you will fail, thinking no one will take you seriously.
The words echo in my head. Miller never took me seriously. Always talking down to me, making sure I know I am inferior to him in power and position. But to actually set this whole thing up, that is more than just being aggressive or disrespectful towards me. It would mean...
He respects you. The thought comes to me suddenly.
The Leader is the first person to actually respect you as a Communicator.
He respected my position. He asked me to tell the guards to lower their weapons, he took me (possibly to kill me) but also maybe to actually do my job and communicate with the Pack. He actually told me about what they think Miller did. About the conspiracies against the wolves.
Could he actually trust me? I must have dozed off because a knock on the door startles me awake. The room is completely dark now. I fumble for the lamp beside the bed, switching it on before making my way to the door.
When I open it, the wolf leader is standing there holding a wooden tray with food. The shadows under his eyes are more pronounced. Even in the dim light, I can see the exhaustion.
"Eat," he says, extending the tray toward me.
I take it, noticing fruits, nuts, and what looks like some kind of meat. "Thank you."
He nods once and turns to leave.
"Wait," I say. "What did the Council decide?" I ask, setting the food tray down on the table.
He stops but doesn't turn around. "We'll discuss it tomorrow."
"I want to know now," I say softly.
He turns slowly, giving me a measured look. "It's complicated."
"I can handle complicated. Trust me."
"Trust," he repeats, his voice flat. "Have you decided whose side you're on yet?"
I stay quiet.
"As I thought. Then there's no point discussing the Council's decision."
I grip the doorframe, frustration building. "Please, don't keep me in the dark."
"I need to keep my pack safe," he says, his voice low. "That's my only priority."
He steps closer. "Tell me something, Communicator. If I told you what we decided, would you help us? Or would you run straight back to Miller with the information?"
I meet his gaze. "That depends on what you decided."
"Exactly my point." He starts to turn away again.
"You said earlier that Miller was looking for any excuse," I say quickly. "That he sent me here expecting me to fail. If that's true, then I deserve to know what I'm walking into."
He stops, considering my words.
"Fine. Let's talk."
I step back from the doorway, letting him in. He hesitates for a moment before entering the small room, closing the door behind him.
The click of the latch sounds louder than it should. The room feels smaller now.
"The Council believes Miller is orchestrating this conflict," he says outright. "We've suspected for months, but now we have something concrete."
He moves to the bed and sits down, bringing himself eye-to-eye with me.
I stay standing. I don't know where else to go. There's nowhere else to sit except next to him.
"Evidence that suggests the boys might be telling the truth." I breathe out, feeling relieved for a moment.
Leaning back on his arms, he studies me intently and says, "At least they think they are. But we found footprints. Three sets, not two."
I cross my arms.
His gaze drops to the movement, then back up.I uncross them.
"Three?"
"The boys, Tyler and Ivan, and further away someone else. An adult."
I frown."You're saying there was someone else in the woods with them?"
He nods. "Someone who might have been the actual shooter. Waiting for his opportunity to strike without anyone noticing."
"Do you know who the third person was?"
His eyes are intent on mine. "Someone connected to Miller."
He pushes off from the bed, and I step aside, trying not to crowd him as he paces the little room. "He has been pushing the boundaries of our territory for months. Sending patrols closer and closer to our borders. Creating incidents and then blaming us."
I search my memory for Miller's exact phrasing during our call.
The wolves established territory closer to human settlements than any other pack in the region. The previous communicators failed to establish proper boundaries.
"And you think he arranged for someone to kill a wolf?"
He stops pacing, turning to face me. "We know, he wants us to react violently so he can justify a larger operation against us."
"That's..." I struggle for words. "That's insane. He'd be risking war."
"That's what he wants."
I shake my head. "No. No one wants that. Not after what happened last time."
"He does." His voice is hard. "And we need to prove it before more people die."
"What does the Council want me to do?" I ask.
"Go back to town. Access the official investigation records. Find out who the third person was. And if that doesn't work..."
"What?"
"Well, if that doesn't work, we gotta take down the CdC from the inside."
"YOU WHAT?" The words explode from me.
He continues calmly, not even reacting to my tone. "We need proof that will withstand Central Authority scrutiny, evidence that can't be dismissed as wolf propaganda."
"This is a suicide mission," I say, shaking my head in disbelief.
"Isn't that one of your specialties?"
I almost laugh hysterically. Is it now?
I consider this for a moment. "That's a lot to ask of someone you just met. Someone human"
"Yes, it is," he says simply.
"What happens if I refuse?"
He takes a step toward me. Then another. "I don't think you can afford that," he says, his tone making it clear he means it. No discussion. Once again, there's no choice—just an ultimatum. Again.
I lift my chin. Hold my ground. My pulse is doing something embarrassing.
His nostrils flare. Just slightly. He can smell it, probably. Fear or whatever this is. I hate that he knows.He tilts his head. His eyes drop to my throat. I feel my pulse jump there, right where he's looking.
I take it back. He doesn't respect me.
"And if Miller is innocent?"
"Then we look elsewhere." He holds my gaze. "But he's not innocent."
We stare at each other in silence for a long moment. "I need to think about this," I finally say.
"Think quickly." He gestures to the tray. "Eat. You'll need your strength either way." Then he brushes past me, closing the door behind him as he leaves.