Chapter Fifteen #2
Silence swallowed the courtyard. Then Piper whispered, “Thank the stars.”
Rowland exhaled shakily. Jasmine nodded once. Her respect unmistakable.
Adrian lifted his head, gazing at the faces surrounding him. His clan. His responsibility.
He spoke clearly. “We face whatever we do and are together. Not fractured. Not fighting one another. Tonight was proof that fear can twist us into enemies. I refuse to let that happen to us.” His gaze swept the crowd. “I refuse to let anyone, anyone, tear this clan apart.”
Max lowered his head in a slow nod. Piper pressed a hand to her heart. Even Garrett, still on the ground, looked away.
Adrian straightened his spine. Then suddenly, something pulled again. Not pain, not exactly. Awareness. Adrian’s head snapped toward the tree line.
Connor.
He wasn’t here. Adrian couldn’t see him, but he felt him. A presence moving closer, drawn by the same invisible thread Connor had been denying for days.
The crowd murmured, unsettled, sensing the shift in Adrian even if they didn’t understand it. Garrett spat blood and grinned. “There it is,” he said, his voice thick. “You feel him, don’t you?”
Adrian turned to Garrett. “Shut up.”
Garrett laughed. “You’re not a King now. You’re a Valour. No more than a puppet on strings.”
Adrian’s rage flared hot and clean. He moved fast, closing the distance and taking Garrett down again. This time with ruthless precision, hooking his leg, driving his shoulder into Garrett’s chest, pinning him to the ground. Garrett thrashed, but Adrian had the advantage of leverage.
He leaned close, his voice low enough for only Garrett to hear. “I’m no one’s puppet.”
Garrett’s eyes were wild. “Then prove it. Break the—”
Adrian hit him. Not with a fist. He wasn’t that reckless, not with his clan watching and the clearing already primed to turn into something uglier. With the heel of his palm, he slapped hard straight across Garrett’s mouth. It snapped Garrett’s head sideways and shut him up mid-syllable.
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd.
Max’s voice carried, low and warning. “Enough, Donaldson.”
Garrett spat blood into the grass and laughed, thick and ugly. “Aye. That’s it. Hit me. Silence me. But you can’t silence what you are.”
Adrian’s hands curled, mud slick between his fingers. His wolf surged under his skin, furious at being kept behind bone and breath. He forced it down with sheer will.
“This isn’t about what I am,” he said savagely. “It’s about what you’re doing.”
Garrett’s grin widened, feral. “I’m doing what you won’t. I’m saying what everyone’s thinking.”
Adrian leaned closer, letting Garrett see the cold in his eyes. “No. You’re trying to make fear look like courage.” He let go of Garrett’s chest. His gaze flicked, toward the ring of onlookers. His own people were hungry for certainty while Adrian was tense with expectation.
Then Garrett’s eyes sharpened, as if he’d found a new angle.
“You actually feel him,” Garrett rasped. “Don’t you?”
Adrian’s stomach tightened. He hated that Garrett could see it. Hated that the truth was in his body even when Adrian himself couldn’t put it in words. “I don’t feel anything,” Adrian lied.
Garrett’s laugh was a wet bark. “You do. You’re tethered. You’re—”
Adrian tightened his grip on Garrett’s collar and hauled him up, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Listen to me,” he said, low enough so only Garrett could hear. “You don’t get to use Connor as an excuse for your own cowardice.”
Garrett’s eyes flared. “Cowardice?”
“Oui,” Adrian said. “Because you’re terrified. Not of me. Not of him. But the fact the world’s changed and you can’t punch it back into the shape you’re comfortable with.”
Garrett’s breath came hard. His hands scrabbled at Adrian’s forearm, trying to pry him off. “You think you’re above it. You think you’re the only one who can bear it.”
Adrian smiled contemptuously. “I’m the one who has to.”
Garrett’s gaze flicked past him, toward the tree line. Adrian felt it again: a tightening under his ribs, sudden and sharp, like a cord drawn taut. Not exactly pain, but more a pressure that made his breath catch and his focus narrow to a single point.
The bond. It flared with urgency, but not quite here yet, though close enough that Adrian’s body reacted as if Connor had stepped within arm’s reach. The air seemed changed, charged, as if the clearing had become a magnet and Adrian was iron being pulled toward it.
Garrett saw the flicker in Adrian’s eyes and smiled. “There,” Garrett whispered, triumphant. “There he is. In you.”
Adrian’s rage went cold. He released Garrett abruptly and rose to his feet, forcing space between them.
The crowd shifted, murmuring, sensing the change even if they didn’t understand it.
Garrett pushed himself up, swaying slightly, blood on his chin.
He wiped it with the back of his hand and spread his arms as if presenting Adrian to the clans.
“Look at him,” Garrett called, his voice loud now, carrying.
“Look at your King. He says he’s no puppet, but he jumps when the strings pull. ”
Max moved a step forward, his eyes like flint. Rowland’s posture changed too. Ready. Protective.
Adrian’s voice cut through the growing noise. “This ends now.”
Garrett’s laugh was sharp. “It ends when you prove you’re not going to drag us into the Veils because some village named you and that fucking Scotsman heroes.”
Adrian took one step toward him. “You want proof? Fine.” He didn’t know what he meant until the words were out.
Garrett’s eyes glittered. “Aye?”
Adrian’s gaze swept the circle of his clan, all of them hungry for something solid to hold on to.
He felt the weight of it like armour and chains.
“We’re not leaving this valley,” Adrian said, his voice loud, steady.
“Not for the village. Not for the Council. Not for anyone. I’ll defend what’s mine.
That’s the only promise I’ve ever made.”
A murmur ran through the clan signalling approval and relief.
Garrett’s mouth curled. “And what about him?” He jetted a finger toward the tree line, as if he could summon Connor by accusation alone. “What about that brute you’re tied to?”
Adrian’s throat tightened. The bond tugged again. Harder this time. Insistent, as if a hand was closing around his ribs. Adrian’s attention snapped to the trees. And there, between trunks and shadow, he saw movement.
The figure breaking into the clearing at a run.
Connor.
He came fast, his coat flaring, his hair wind-tossed, and his breath puffing in the cold air. His face was pale, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on Adrian as if he were the only fixed point in a shifting world.
Max stepped forward , half-blocking his path, but Connor barely seemed to recognise him. He slowed only at the edge of the circle, his chest heaving, his gaze still pinned to Adrian.
The clearing went silent. Garrett seemed to savour it, his grin widening as if the world had proven his point for him.
Adrian’s gaze flicked briefly to Garrett, then back to Connor. His eyes softened for a moment. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.
***
Connor
Connor could feel the steadying in him, the way Adrian’s presence made the air feel less sharp, less ready to cut.
Garrett broke the silence with a laugh. “See?” he said, his voice loud and victorious. “He comes when you call, Gauthier. Like a mate. Like a leash.”
Adrian’s head turned, slow and dangerous. “Say that again,” he said softly.
Max’s hand moved toward Adrian’s elbow and seemed to send a silent warning.
Connor stepped forward before Adrian could. “This is between you and me now, Garrett.”
Garrett’s eyes burned. “No. It’s between you and what you’ve become.”
Connor’s voice went low. “You challenged Adrian. You lost. Yield was given.”
Garrett spat, his blood dark on the grass. “Aye. I yielded. But I didn’t believe.”
Connor felt his wolf surge, furious. He forced it down.
Max’s voice cut in, sharp. “Donaldson, you’ve had your answer. Walk away.”
Garrett’s gaze flicked to him, then to the crowd, then back to Connor. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, deciding whether to jump. “Fine,” Garrett said too quick, too easy. “If you’re so sure you’re not a puppet, prove it properly.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Garrett’s grin was all teeth. “Shift.”
A collective inhale. Connor’s blood went cold. “No shifting. That was the rule, wasn’t it?” He looked over at Adrian, whose nod confirmed it.
Garrett shrugged, spreading his hands. “Rules change. The world’s changed. Or are you afraid your wolf will run straight to him?”
Adrian’s expression didn’t change, but Connor felt the bond.
“You’re slipping too, Connor,” Garrett said. “The packs need strength. Not hesitation.”
Connor didn’t take the bait. “Walk away.”
Garrett’s laugh was sharp as winter. “Not until you acknowledge what everyone sees. You’re not fit to lead a clan. Neither is he,” he waved at Adrian.
Adrian stiffened. “Garrett, don’t start this. This isn’t your clan, or your challenge.” His voice boomed, but free will was not subject to its power.
Decisions remained one man’s burden to bear. Garrett ignored him as he faced Connor. “I’m fighting you because I don’t fucking like you. And with you gone, perhaps that man who calls himself our King will come to his senses.”
Connor shook his head. “You don’t want this.”
“Oh, I do.” Garrett’s wolf rippled under his skin. “Unless you’re afraid.”
Connor removed his clothes and stood naked in the courtyard. “Fine. Shift.”
The shift hit them both like a crack of thunder. Bones snapped, fur tore through skin, claws dug into the earth. Garrett lunged first. Reckless and overconfident. Connor met him mid-air, teeth clashing, snarls ripping through the clearing.
Garrett raked claws across Connor’s flank. The pain was hot and immediate and should’ve made Connor recoil. It didn’t. It sharpened him. His wolf registered it as information.
Garrett is desperate. Garrett is willing to break the line.