Blake's POV
Two years passed quietly, but quiet never lasts forever.
I was twelve when everything started to shift. Dad was still the High Leader of the White Fang, and for a while, people still believed in what he stood for—equality, reason, peace. But peace doesn't feed anger. And anger was growing faster than hope.
Menagerie was still warm and loud, but the tone in the meetings had changed. Words like justice and rights started coming with retribution and resistance attached. I'd stand at the back with Senti, trying to listen, trying to understand.
Dad's voice was strong, calm as always."We must remind them that we are equals, not enemies."
It used to work. It didn't anymore.
The younger members didn't want patience. They wanted results.
Senti leaned close to me during one of the speeches, her ears twitching."They're done listening."
I frowned. "Don't say that."
She tilted her head, silver hair catching the dim light. "You can hear it too. They're waiting for someone else to give them permission to be angry."
I didn't argue. I just wanted her to be wrong.
When the meeting ended, Dad spoke with the council while Mom gathered papers. I stayed by the door, watching the crowd leave.
Senti stood beside me, hands in her pockets, tail still.
"They're going to split," she said quietly.
"Dad won't let them."
"Dad can't stop them," Senti said. "Not all of them."
I turned to her. "You sound like you've given up."
She shook her head. "I'm paying attention."
That night, at dinner, Mom tried to steer the conversation away from politics. It didn't work.
Dad sighed. "Change doesn't happen overnight."
"It should've started already," I muttered.
"Blake," Mom said softly.
"No, she's right to speak," Dad said. "But anger isn't a plan."
"Then what is?" I asked. "Another meeting? Another speech that no one listens to?"
Dad set his chopsticks down. "If you want to lead, you must lead without hate."
"Maybe hate is the only thing they understand."
The silence that followed was heavier than anything I'd heard in that house before.
Senti was at the far end of the table. She didn't look up, just tapped her finger lightly against the wood. Her ears twitched once, then went still.
The next day, we went to a rally near the docks. It wasn't supposed to be violent. It never was, at first.
Sienna Khan had returned to Menagerie to speak—sharp, confident, the kind of voice that didn't tremble. She talked about strength and taking back what was ours.
Dad didn't interrupt her, but I could see the muscle in his jaw tighten.
The crowd cheered louder than I'd ever heard before.
I looked up at Senti. She wasn't cheering.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Everything," she said.
When the rally ended, Senti disappeared into the crowd for a few minutes. I found her near the edge of the harbor, staring at the water.
"They're going to follow her," she said.
"Sienna?"
Senti nodded. "And when they do, your father's version of the Fang dies."
That night, I argued with Mom and Dad again.
Mom tried to calm me. "You're still a child, Blake. You don't need to fix this."
"But I can't just sit here while they turn into something else!" I said. "I can help—if they'll listen."
Dad shook his head. "They won't. Not to reason. They want blood."
"Then I'll give them something else to listen to!" I shouted.
Dad's tone hardened. "No. You'll stay here."
I looked between them—Mom's worried eyes, Dad's steady disappointment—and I felt trapped.
Senti stood in the doorway, silent. I knew she heard everything.
When I turned to leave, Mom reached out. "Blake, please."
"I can't stay here," I said. "Not if it means watching everything you built burn."
Senti caught my arm before I reached the door.
"You're angry," she said softly.
"I have to be," I said. "It's the only way they'll listen."
Senti met my gaze, eyes calm, unreadable. "Then let me come with you."
"No," I said. "This isn't your fight."
She smiled faintly, teeth flashing in the lamplight. "Everything's my fight when it's yours."
I didn't argue. I just walked out into the night.
I didn't have a plan. I followed the White Fang envoys back toward their outpost near the cliffs. I told them I wanted to help. They didn't question it—Dad's daughter wanting to "make a difference" sounded noble enough.
Senti found me two days later, sitting near the campfire outside their tents.
"You tracked me?" I asked.
She shrugged. "You're not hard to find. You stomp when you're angry."
"I thought you'd tell my parents."
"I didn't," she said. "Mom would've stopped you. I just wanted to see how far you'd go."
"And?"
"Far enough," she said. "But not ready."
"I can handle myself."
"You can," she said. "But you shouldn't have to."
She sat beside me, tail brushing against the dirt. "What are you hoping to find here?"
"Something worth fighting for."
"And if you don't?"
"Then I'll make it myself," I said.
Senti looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "Then I'll make sure you live long enough to do it."
That night, I watched the ocean from the edge of the cliffs while the new recruits spoke about revolution and freedom. Their words were loud, but their eyes were tired.
Senti stood behind me, quiet as always.
"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" I asked.
"No," she said honestly. "But we're doing something, and that's what scares them."
I looked over my shoulder. "You're not afraid?"
"I'm afraid all the time," she said. "That's why I move first."
Her tail flicked once. The moonlight caught in her eyes, turning them gold.
"Promise me something," she said.
"What?"
"When this ends—when you see what this really becomes—don't let it take you with it."
I didn't understand what she meant then.But I would.
Because that was the night I stopped being Blake Belladonna, daughter of the High Leader.
And started being Blake of the White Fang.