The first light hadn't even broken when the knock came.
Not a polite one—sharp, hard, demanding.
Elara's eyes flew open. She'd fallen asleep sitting against the door, exhaustion claiming her sometime after Kael vanished into the forest. For a disoriented second, she thought the knocking was a dream. But then it came again, louder this time, rattling the hinges.
"Elara Hale," a male voice barked from outside. "Open the door."
Her pulse quickened. She stood, steadying herself before unlatching the lock. When she opened it, two sentries from the night patrol stood there, both tense, both armed.
"What's wrong?" she asked, forcing calm into her voice.
"Alpha Roran wants you at the Pack House," said the taller one—Jace, a warrior she'd seen on border shifts. His tone carried no accusation yet, but his eyes didn't meet hers. "Now."
Elara's stomach dropped.
She nodded silently, grabbed her cloak, and stepped outside.
The walk through the forest was quiet except for the crunch of frost underfoot. The early morning mist was thick, curling low across the ground. Even the birds hadn't started singing yet.
Every instinct screamed at her that something was wrong.
As they approached the central clearing, she saw more guards than usual—posted along the perimeter, hands close to their weapons. A few pack members lingered in clusters, whispering. The moment they noticed her, the murmurs grew louder.
"She's the reason—"
"I told you, I smelled him."
"Blackridge scent. Right near her cabin."
Elara's throat tightened.
Inside the hall, Alpha Roran stood by the long table, his shoulders stiff, face carved into the cold mask of authority. To his right stood Beta Garrick, his expression unreadable. And behind them, half the pack council, wide-eyed and whispering among themselves.
When Elara entered, the room fell silent.
"Where were you last night?" Roran's voice was low but sharp, slicing through the quiet.
She blinked. "At my cabin."
"You didn't leave?"
"No."
A few council members exchanged looks. One of them, Elder Rhea, leaned forward. "Then explain why our border patrol found tracks—large wolf prints, fresh—circling your cabin just before dawn."
Her chest constricted. "A rogue, maybe. The forest—"
"The scent belonged to Alpha Kael of Blackridge." Roran's voice thundered before she could finish. "Our patrol confirmed it."
The words hit like a blow. The murmurs that followed were a storm—fear, outrage, disbelief.
Elara shook her head, trying to stay steady. "He didn't attack. He—he just—"
"So he was here." Roran's eyes narrowed.
Elara realized too late that she'd said too much.
The Alpha's fury was quiet, more dangerous for it. "You brought him here?"
"No," she said quickly. "He came on his own. I didn't call him, I didn't—"
Roran stepped forward. "Then why was he outside your cabin, Elara? Why not the borders? Why not the meeting ground? Tell me why a foreign Alpha trespassed into my land and stopped at your door."
Her pulse roared in her ears. Every word she spoke sounded like guilt. "I don't know," she said. "He came without warning. He said the pack wasn't safe."
The room erupted.
"He's using her."
"She's feeding him information."
"She's cursed. The misfortunes started when he appeared!"
Roran slammed his hand against the table, silencing them all. His jaw worked, muscles twitching. "Do you deny being in contact with him before this?"
"I swear I haven't," Elara said, voice breaking slightly.
Luca's mocking tone drifted from the back of the room. "Strange how the powerful ones always seem drawn to her, huh? First our Beta heir, now an Alpha. What is she, some kind of—"
"Enough," Roran snapped, though his glare didn't reach Luca. He turned back to Elara, eyes colder than she'd ever seen. "You've brought trouble to my pack more than once, Elara. This isn't a matter of pity anymore—it's a matter of loyalty."
Her hands trembled, but she forced herself to lift her chin. "I've done nothing to betray Silvercrest."
Alaric finally spoke, his tone careful. "Alpha, if Kael truly was here, he broke protocol. Not her. She didn't send a signal, and no guards were harmed."
Roran's gaze flicked to him, sharp. "And yet he found her cabin. He sought her out." His voice dropped. "She's the reason Blackridge's Alpha is in our territory. You think they won't come again?"
No one answered. The silence itself was a verdict.
Elara's wolf stirred inside her chest—uneasy, low growling in defense. But she held it back, afraid to show even a hint of rebellion.
Roran's tone softened—not with kindness, but calculation. "You say he warned you the pack isn't safe. Perhaps he meant it as a threat, not a concern."
Her pulse jumped. "No—"
"He will come again," Roran said grimly. "And if he does, he will find you gone."
The words sank slowly, like poison spreading through her blood. "You're exiling me?"
"Not yet," he said. "You'll remain confined until we decide your fate."
The guards stepped closer.
Elara's chest went tight. "Please," she said quietly. "You can't think—"
But Roran didn't meet her eyes. His final words were ice. "You've become a risk I can't afford."
Two guards took her by the arms—not roughly, but firmly. The hall buzzed with whispers as they led her out.
As the heavy door shut behind her, she caught a few words carried on the murmurs:
"Blackridge witch."
"Bringer of ruin."
"Should've never been one of us."
Her wolf's low growl vibrated inside her chest, muted but fierce. They don't know.
Elara lifted her head as the guards marched her through the courtyard. The morning sun had just started to rise, pale and thin through the mist. Somewhere in the distance, a raven called once—a sharp, echoing sound that made both guards flinch.
The sound lingered long after it faded, curling in Elara's mind like a warning.
She didn't know if Kael was still out there. But she could feel something—his presence like a shadow at the edge of her thoughts.
Whatever storm he brought with him, it wasn't done yet.
And Silvercrest was already cracking under its weight.