The Silvercrest pack house loomed under a restless gray sky. Clouds hung heavy, bruised with the promise of rain, pressing down on the pine-covered hills. Inside, tension rippled through the great hall like an open wound that refused to heal.
Candles burned low along the long oak table, their thin flames swaying with every shift in the air. The pack council had gathered — the elders, the Beta, and Alpha Damon himself. The weight of too many secrets sat among them.
Beta Garrick broke the silence first. His voice was low, rough as gravel.
"Alpha, the murmurs are spreading. The patrols return empty-handed, our borders grow weaker, and the healers whisper that the pups' fevers won't break. The pack believes it's her. They think Elara brought this on us."
Elder Taren, the oldest among them, let out a snort. His cloudy eyes gleamed in the dim light.
"She did bring it. I said from the beginning — she was never meant to be part of Silvercrest. You took her in when the signs said otherwise. The Moon Goddess marked her absence for a reason."
"She's not cursed," countered Elder Miriam, her calm voice cutting through the room. "Blaming a girl won't fix what's coming. The Blackridge Alpha's emissaries were seen at the borders again. If we act rashly, we could spark something we can't contain."
Taren's lip curled. "Then give her to him. Let Kael take what he wants and spare the rest of us."
The name Kael darkened the room. Even the fire in the hearth seemed to dim at its mention.
Damon's hand tightened around the arm of his chair until the wood creaked. "You would suggest surrendering a member of my pack to a man like him?"
"Your pack?" Taren snapped. "She's not even one of us! She's a stray you dragged here from a battlefield you never speak of."
Garrick's gaze shifted to Damon. "He's not wrong, Alpha. Every time we talk about Elara, you shut the conversation down. You say you're protecting her—but from what? Or from whom?"
Damon's expression didn't move, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. "You forget your place, Beta."
"No," Garrick said quietly, "I remember it too well. I've followed you since before Silvercrest was rebuilt. I've watched you make choices that saved us—and others that damned us. You've carried a secret since the day you found that girl. You didn't just find her, did you?"
The silence that followed was suffocating. Even the crackle of the fire seemed to hesitate.
Miriam's eyes softened as understanding flickered there. "You took her during the Bloodbane war, didn't you?"
Damon's gaze snapped toward her, sharp as a knife.
The elders stirred, exchanging uneasy glances.
"She was a child," Miriam continued, voice steady. "You said she was lost. But she wasn't lost—she was taken."
Elder Taren's fist slammed against the table. "You stole from the Bloodbane pack? Damon, that war nearly tore the region apart! No wonder Kael demands her. She doesn't belong to us—she belongs to them!"
Damon rose suddenly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. "Enough!"
The command in his tone made the air vibrate. For a heartbeat, everyone obeyed instinct and bowed their heads, the Alpha's dominance radiating like thunder.
But when he spoke again, his voice cracked under the weight of what he refused to admit.
"She was a child. Alone. Covered in ash and blood. Her pack was gone—her parents dead. I couldn't leave her there."
Miriam's eyes softened, but Taren sneered. "So you made her your penance?"
Damon's stare was cold enough to still the air. "She is my responsibility."
Garrick stood slowly. "And now that responsibility might destroy us all."
"Watch your tongue, Beta," Damon warned, though the fire in his voice had dulled. "You speak as if I would trade the girl's life for peace."
Garrick's tone turned grim. "Wouldn't you? Because Kael will not ask again. And the pack won't forgive you when the truth spreads."
Damon's gaze dropped to the floor. For a long moment, he said nothing. His silence was the only confession they needed.
Finally, he murmured, "This meeting is over."
He turned and strode from the room, the heavy doors closing with a dull echo behind him.
The council remained in the flickering candlelight, the air thick with unease.
Miriam whispered, "He's hiding something worse than guilt."
Taren leaned back, voice rasping like dry leaves. "And when Blackridge comes for the girl, all his secrets will burn with him."