Chapter 235
The news spread like wildfire.
Not the fiery, panic-laced kind that made wolves bolt from their homes. No — this was quieter, colder. The kind that sat heavy in the bones and made people avoid eye contact in the halls.
Halrick’s betrayal had struck deep. But it was Zev who truly rattled them.
A junior guard. Young. Bright. Smiling.
One of their own.
Now branded a traitor.
As I walked through the courtyard that morning, I could feel the weight of it all pressing against my spine. Wolves stopped talking when I passed. Not in fear — in search of reassurance. As if one look from me might unravel their doubts.
But I didn’t have easy answers. Not this time.
Roman met me near the war chamber steps, his arms folded, eyes scanning the training yard where half-hearted drills were being run. The tension in the air was thick enough to chew.
“Two scouts reported families asking if they should leave temporarily,” he said.
I frowned. “They’re afraid the council’s collapse means we’ve lost control.”
“We haven’t.”
“I know that. You know that. But they’ve lived their whole lives under council rule. Stability for them wasn’t truth — it was tradition. And we just shattered it.”
Roman tilted his head. “Then give them something new to believe in.”
I arched a brow. “I already give weekly speeches.”
“Not words,” he said. “Action. Something that shows we’re rebuilding forward. Not just burning down the rot.”
That’s when it hit me.
“Tonight,” I said. “We name Nessa.”
The elders who remained loyal didn’t protest.
They were too shaken, too humbled. The betrayal within their own ranks had dulled their appetite for politics.
When I stood before them in the quiet council hall that afternoon and declared my intent to formally appoint Nessa as the liaison between the training corps and the Alpha office, there was no argument.
Just quiet nods.
Approval coated in relief.
I could almost hear them thinking: Let the girl handle it. At least she hasn’t lied to us.
Roman stayed quiet during the announcement. But when we stepped out into the corridor, he nudged me with a smirk. “You’ve become quite the power broker.”
“Careful,” I said. “I might start charging by the speech.”
His laughter was short but real. We hadn’t laughed much lately. It felt good.
That evening, the clearing behind the packhouse was lit with soft golden torches. Only a small group had been invited—those who mattered. Ella. Wyatt. The training leads. A handful of warriors who had fought beside Nessa. No councilmen. No ceremonies bloated with pomp.
Just us.
The air was still. The trees watched silently as I stepped into the center of the ring, cloak rustling in the wind.
Nessa stood before me, chin high, hands shaking just slightly.
She wore her training tunic, not a dress. She had insisted. “If I’m going to wear something symbolic,” she had said, “let it be something I bled in.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
I looked at the small crowd, then back to her.
“Tonight,” I said, my voice loud and steady, “we name not a leader born of bloodlines or council titles — but one forged in fire.”
There was a murmur of approval.
I turned to Nessa.
“You saw the rot when others looked away. You held your ground when people twice your age faltered. You gave truth a voice when silence was easier.”
Nessa swallowed hard.
I took a step closer and held out my hand. She placed hers over mine, fingers cold but steady.
“Do you vow,” I said, “to serve this pack with eyes open and ears sharp? To speak truth even when it costs you, and to protect even those who may never know your name?”
“I do,” she whispered.
“Then kneel.”
She sank slowly to one knee.
I reached into the satchel at my side and withdrew the cloth—a deep green sash, threaded with the crest of the Alpha's mark. Not for rank. For trust.
I draped it over her shoulder.
“Rise, Nessa,” I said. “Liaison of the Guard. Voice of the warriors. And proof that strength is not always loud.”
As she stood, the crowd clapped—not loud, but sincere.
Ella wiped away a tear. Wyatt gave a short nod.
Roman? He watched her with the kind of pride that spoke louder than any words.
Nessa turned to me, eyes glistening. “Thank you.”
“No,” I said. “Thank you. For staying.”
After the ceremony, we stayed out under the stars.
It wasn’t a party—no one was in the mood. But it was warm. Peaceful.
Nessa sat beside me, her plate half-full. Roman was somewhere talking to Wyatt about patrol rotations, and Ella had pulled a few of the newer recruits aside to teach them how to actually hold a dagger without slicing off their thumb.
“I didn’t think I’d ever be part of something like this,” Nessa admitted.
“Like what?”
She motioned around. “This. Family. Trust. I always thought I was just passing through.”
“You’re not,” I said. “And you never were.”
She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing a little.
Then her voice dropped. “There’s one thing I didn’t say earlier.”
I tilted my head.
“When I found Zev’s logbook, I almost didn’t report it. I was scared. I thought… maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was all a coincidence.”
“But you told us anyway.”
She nodded. “I still wonder if I would’ve spoken up if he had been closer to me. Like… a real friend.”
I was quiet for a moment. Then I said, “Courage isn’t about being certain. It’s about being willing. You were.”
Nessa gave a small, shy smile. “You sound like Roman.”
“Oh, don’t say that. I might have to start brooding and punching trees.”
She laughed. “And wearing all black.”
I smirked. “Okay, I do wear all black, but it’s strategic.”
Another laugh. This one lighter.
The heaviness hadn’t lifted.
But the roots had grown deeper.
And in the silence that followed, I realized something:
The war wasn’t over.
But for the first time…
I didn’t feel like we were just surviving it.
We were defining it.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
