Chapter 2 Gideon
GIDEON
The frost crunches beneath my boots as I circle the training ground, breath forming sharp clouds in the pre-dawn air.
Twenty-three wolves move through combat formations, their movements precise but lacking the edge I need to see.
The clearing echoes with the controlled violence of sparring.
Flesh meeting flesh, grunts of effort, the occasional growl when someone's wolf pushes too close to the surface.
"Elias, your left side's wide open." I step between two sparring pairs, demonstrating the defensive stance. "An enemy gets through there, you're bleeding out before you can shift."
Elias adjusts his position, sweat beading despite the October chill. "Like this, sir?"
"Better. Again."
I watch him reset, noting the slight hesitation before he commits to the attack. Hesitation kills. I've seen it happen too many times. Good wolves dying because they second-guessed an instinct that could have saved them.
The pack moves through the drill sequence carefully and methodically, but efficiency isn't enough anymore.
Not with the reports filtering in from other territories.
Rogue supernatural activity increasing. Council enforcers mobilizing without explanation.
Something's stirring in the shadows, and my wolves need to be ready for whatever emerges.
"Switch partners. Lyon, you're with Kai. Show him how it's done."
Lyon grins, her canines extending slightly as her wolf responds to the prospect of a real challenge. Kai outweighs her by sixty pounds, but she moves like water around his strikes, exploiting every opening with glee.
"See that?" I address the group without taking my eyes off the sparring match. "Power means nothing if you can't land a hit. Kai's thinking like a human, telegraphing every move. Lyon’s thinking like a predator."
Lyon sweeps Kai's legs, sending him sprawling. He hits the ground hard, pine needles sticking to his tactical gear.
"Again." My voice cuts through his frustrated growl. "And this time, stop announcing your intentions with your shoulders."
The morning progresses relentlessly. Combat drills, tactical formations, emergency response protocols.
I push them through scenarios that would exhaust most packs, but Frostfang isn't most packs.
We rebuilt from nothing after the war, forged ourselves into something harder than the wolves who came before.
"Alpha." Cassian approaches from the tree line, his expression grim. My beta moves with the notable urgency that means trouble. "Council transmission just came through."
I gesture for the pack to continue training without breaking my stride toward him. "What do they want?"
"Assignment briefing. High priority." He hands me an encrypted tablet, the screen displaying an official Council seal. "They're requesting your personal involvement."
The words on the screen blur together as my wolf stirs uneasily. Council assignments usually mean politics, and politics usually mean someone's trying to use Frostfang as a convenient tool.
"Personal protection detail." I read the summary with growing irritation. "They want me to babysit some academic."
"Dr. Clara Ward. Folklore researcher." Cassian's voice carries the same skepticism I feel. "Says here she's experiencing 'supernatural awakening' and requires Alpha-level security."
I close the tablet with more force than necessary. The Council's timing feels suspicious. Assign me a meaningless protection detail just when my pack needs focused leadership. Sounds like a trap.
"Tell them we're not interested." I say.
"Already tried. They're classifying it as mandatory under the territorial accords."
"The territorial accords? The same agreements that bound us to Council authority while offering nothing in return when we needed help most?!"
The scent hits me first. Council authority mixed with nervous sweat and the metallic tang of teleportation magic. I turn from watching Lyon demolish another sparring partner to see a figure materializing at the edge of the training ground.
The messenger steps forward, postured as though he is prepared to deliver bad news. Council robes hang loose on his thin frame, and his pale eyes dart between me and the pack with obvious discomfort.
"Alpha Frost." He extends a sealed scroll with trembling fingers. "The Council requires your immediate presence."
I don't move to take the document. "Immediate?"
"Within the hour, Alpha. Transportation has been arranged."
The pack continues their drills behind me, but I sense their awareness shift. Twenty-three wolves suddenly focused on the intruder who dares interrupt their training with Council demands.
"Leave it on the ground."
The messenger's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. He places the scroll on a flat stone and retreats several steps before vanishing in another burst of displaced air.
I retrieve the document, breaking the wax seal carefully. The parchment crackles as I unfold it, revealing the flowery script that Council bureaucrats mistake for authority.
"Alpha Gideon Frost is hereby summoned to appear before the High Council for assignment briefing regarding the protection of Dr. Clara Ward. Attendance is mandatory under Article Seven of the Territorial Accords. Failure to comply will result in sanctions against Frostfang territory."
Cassian appears at my shoulder, reading over my arm. "Well, that's not ominous at all."
"Pack's dismissed." I address the training ground without looking up. "Standard patrol rotations resume."
The wolves disperse in an instant, but I catch the concerned glances they exchange. They know Council interference never brings anything good.
Cassian waits until we're alone before speaking. "You're not seriously considering this."
"The accords don't give me much choice."
"The accords are political theater designed to keep us compliant." His voice drops to the tone he reserves for tactical discussions. "Look at the timing. Rising tensions across three territories, rogue activity spiking, and suddenly they need you personally for a babysitting job?"
I fold the summons with sharp creases. "You think it's a setup."
"I think it's convenient. Pull the most effective Alpha away from his territory just when things are getting interesting."
The morning sun catches the whisper of dew still clinging to the pine needles, creating thousands of tiny mirrors that disperse the light. Everything appears normal, peaceful even, but Cassian is right about the timing.
"How long since the last rogue incursion?" I ask.
"Eighteen days. And that was the third one this month." He crosses his arms, tactical vest creaking. "Something's coordinating them. These aren't random attacks."
"Which is exactly why I can't ignore a Council summons." I start walking toward the compound, Cassian matching my pace. "They sanction Frostfang, we lose our legal standing. No standing means no protection under supernatural law."
"And no protection means open season on our territory."
We reach the main lodge, its log walls scarred from the war but still standing strong. Like everything else we've rebuilt.
"Take command while I'm gone." I push through the heavy doors into the war room, maps and tactical displays covering every surface. "Double the perimeter patrols. I want eyes on every approach route."
Cassian nods, already mentally reorganizing patrol schedules. "What about the southern border?"
" Lyon’s team can handle it. She's been itching for more responsibility anyway."
"And if this protection detail turns into something longer?"
I stop arranging papers on the tactical table. The question hangs between us like smoke from a dying fire.
"Then you hold this territory until I get back."
The Council chamber stretches before me like a cathedral designed by someone with a grudge against warmth.
Obsidian walls rise to impossible heights, carved with symbols that seem to shift when I'm not looking directly at them.
Five figures sit behind a crescent-shaped table that could double as an altar for sacrificing stray Alphas.
I settle into the single chair they've provided. Positioned perfectly to make me feel like I am a defendant rather than an ally. The wood creaks under my weight, probably enchanted to broadcast every nervous fidget to the assembled powers.
"Alpha Frost." Councilor Thane speaks without looking up from his scrolls, silver hair catching the light from floating orbs overhead. "Thank you for responding so promptly."
"Didn't realize I had much choice in the matter."
"Territorial accords do tend to limit our flexibility." His smile carries all the warmth of a winter funeral. "But this matter requires your particular expertise."
I lean back, letting my skepticism show. Council summons usually involve border disputes or taxation adjustments. Mundane political theater dressed up as urgent supernatural business.
"We have a situation." Councilor Wyzant interrupts, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "A human woman has surfaced with active magical heritage. Specifically, the Ward bloodline."
The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. Even I know that name from the old stories. Whispered warnings about witches who could bind supernatural rulers with nothing more than will and bloodright.
"Ward bloodline went extinct three decades ago." I keep my voice level despite the sudden tension coiling in my chest. "Everyone knows that."
"Everyone was wrong." Thane finally looks up, pale eyes holding mine.
"Dr. Clara Ward manifested defensive magic during an assassination attempt last night.
Golden bindings, signature Ward manifestation patterns.
Our genealogists have confirmed her lineage through three separate verification methods. "
My wolf stirs uneasily, sensing the shift from routine politics to something far more dangerous. Ward magic doesn't just bind, it compels absolute obedience from supernatural beings. In the wrong hands, that kind of power could topple territories overnight.
"How many people know about this?"
"Currently? This room, two field agents, and the woman herself." Vale's fingers drum against the obsidian table. "We intend to keep it that way until the immediate threat is neutralized."
"What immediate threat?"
"Someone's been hunting Ward descendants systematically. Our researchers found evidence of over a dozen suspicious deaths over the past decade. All distant relatives of the original bloodline. Dr. Ward survived because her magic awakened just in time to resist the binding spell used against her."
The pieces click together with uncomfortable clarity. Over a dozen murders spread across a decade suggests coordination, patience, resources. Someone's been playing a very long game.
"You want me to protect her."
"We want you to ensure she remains alive and her abilities remain secret." Thane stands, robes rustling like bat wings. "This is not a negotiation, Alpha. Under Article Seven of the territorial accords, you are hereby assigned as Dr. Ward's primary protection detail until this threat is resolved."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then Frostfang territory loses Council recognition and protection." Vale's smile could freeze hell over. "I'm sure the neighboring packs would find your lands quite attractive without legal barriers preventing expansion."
The threat hangs between us for a few long moments. They know exactly how to apply pressure. Threaten the pack, not me personally. My wolves rebuilt everything from ash and blood. I won't watch it burn because of Council politics.
"How long?"
"Until the assassination network is dismantled or Dr. Ward's magical training is complete enough to defend herself." Thane returns to his scrolls as if the matter is already settled. "Transport to her current location has been arranged."
I stand slowly, letting my full height serve as a reminder that they're ordering around a predator, not a pet. "This feels less like protection and more like strategic placement."
"Your suspicions are noted and irrelevant." Wyzant waves a dismissive hand. "Dr. Ward is currently housed in a secure facility two hours north of here. You'll receive full briefing materials during transport."
"One more question." I pause at the chamber doors, heavy oak carved with wards that probably predate my bloodline. "Why me specifically? Any Alpha could handle bodyguard duty."
The silence stretches long enough to confirm what I already suspected. This assignment carries complications they're not sharing.
"Because," Thane finally speaks, "Ward magic responds to supernatural authority figures. She'll need guidance from someone who understands both power and restraint."
I push through the doors without responding, their political doublespeak following me into the corridor like smoke. Whatever they're not telling me about this woman and her bloodline, I'll find out soon enough.
The taste of manipulation sits bitter on my tongue as I walk toward whatever trap they've just sprung.