Chapter 18: The Elders’ Verdict
The heavy oak doors creaked open as Rowan stepped into the Elders’ chamber. The chamber was quiet when Rowan entered, but the silence was brittle, stretched taut with the weight of expectation and restrained fury.
The five Elders stood in a semi-circle, aged and sharp-eyed, each cloaked in the authority of generations past. Rowan didn’t bow. He crossed his arms instead, his jaw clenched so tight it ached.
“You called for me,” Rowan said, his voice steady but laced with underlying tension that he was sure the Elders picked up on.
Elder Brant was the first to speak. “We hoped you might come with a clearer head this time, Alpha.”
“My head’s never been clearer,” Rowan said flatly.
Elder Merek leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of him. “The recent rogue attack was perilously close to our borders. Too close for us to consider a random attack.”
“We believe this incursion is no coincidence,” Elder Vessa added. “It aligns suspiciously with the arrival of Giselle and her family.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Are you implying they somehow led the rogues here?”
“We are not implying anything, Alpha. At this point, we are stating,” Elder Thorne interjected. “Their continued presence here endangers the pack, and we can’t stand for that.”
Rowan’s wolf stirred, a low growl resonating within him. “Giselle is my mate. She poses no threat to us.”
“Your bond blinds you, Alpha,” Vessa said coldly. “We must act to protect the pack by any means necessary. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”
“What are you suggesting?” Rowan’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, his wolf perking up in preparation of a fight.
“Elimination,” Merek stated.
A savage growl erupted from Rowan’s throat, the sound of his wolf overlapping with each word that he growled out. “You want me to turn on my mate.”
Elder Elira stepped forward. Her voice was measured but cold. “Not turn. Protect. Protect the pack from the threat her presence brings to us all.”
“She’s not a threat,” Rowan snapped.
Elder Torrin scoffed. “You speak as though you know that for certain. As if being your mate makes her actions pure. She was one of them, Rowan. A rogue. Her scent still clings to that lawless stench, reminding everyone that she doesn’t belong here with us.”
Rowan’s wolf snarled in his head, and he had to bite down on the urge to let it bleed into his voice once again. “And yet she has been living alongside us every day, earning her place here in the pack, just like everyone else.”
Elder Ilma raised a hand, a calming gesture that only made Rowan bristle further. “We understand your... connection. But your emotions cannot blind you. You’re our Alpha, and with that comes duty. Logic. Sacrifice.”
Rowan slammed a fist into the stone table between them. “I won’t sacrifice my mate!”
The chamber rang with the echo of his fury.
“Then what would you have us do?” Elder Brant barked. “Wait until the next rogue attack happens inside our walls? Until your precious mate’s sister opens the gates in the night? You think you can guarantee their loyalty?”
“I trust Giselle,” Rowan growled.
Elira’s eyes narrowed. “Even now, you sound more like her mate than our Alpha.”
“I am both.” His voice was steel. “And I won’t be forced to pick between them. Not even by the five of you.”
Torrin stepped forward, face red with restrained outrage. “You will have to choose if you keep letting your heart cloud your judgment. If you can’t lead with reason, then maybe it’s time we choose someone who can.”
The threat was out in the open now, ugly and sharp.
Rowan’s wolf surged beneath his skin. ‘Let me out. I’ll show them what loyalty looks like…’
“No one is replacing me,” Rowan said, voice low and dangerous. “Unless they want blood to bathe these halls.”
“If you would just listen to reason-”
A thunderous growl erupted from Rowan, his eyes glowing with fury. “Touch her, and I will dismantle this pack from the inside out and leave nothing behind for you to lord over.”
The Elders exchanged wary glances, not sure how to proceed with the delicate situation in front of them. A heavy silence followed. The Elders, once iron-spined, seemed to hesitate — just for a breath.
“Perhaps a compromise,” Thorne offered.
Ilma straightened her posture. “We don’t want war in the ranks. But if you insist on protecting her, then she and her family are to remain under constant watch. They will not leave the packhouse grounds. They will not attend meetings. And you will keep your distance from Giselle, to ensure no public claim.”
Rowan shook his head slowly, fury simmering behind his eyes. “That’s a prison sentence for a woman who’s done nothing wrong.”
“It’s a precaution,” Brant replied. “Until we are certain where her loyalties lie. We’ll detain them, temporarily. Until their innocence is proven.”
“And if that’s not good enough for you,” Torrin added, “you know the consequences.”
Rowan’s fists clenched, but he nodded curtly. “Fine. But harm them, and there will be consequences.”
The Elders inclined their heads, the decision made.
Rowan turned away before his temper could explode. His voice was tight, shaking with restrained rage. “You say you’re protecting this pack. But if you push me any further, it won’t be rogues that tear it apart.”
He didn’t wait for their reply. He stormed from the chamber, fury rolling off him like thunder, his wolf whispering dark promises beneath his skin.
As he exited, his mind raced. He had bought time, but the battle was far from over.
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