Chapter 49 – Old Blood, New Wars
The stone hallway leading to the Elder’s chamber was always cold—too cold, like the air itself knew the cruelty woven into the walls. Rowan’s boots echoed against the floor as he made his way down the corridor, each step a countdown to another confrontation. Another performance.
The weight of the pack’s legacy sat on his shoulders like armor. But today, it chafed.
He reached the thick wooden doors and didn’t wait for permission to enter. He shoved them open.
All six Elders sat behind the curved table at the front of the chamber, stone-faced and silent. Only Elder Malric raised his chin in thinly veiled contempt.
“Alpha Rowan,” Elder Malric drawled. “How convenient that you’re no longer too busy chasing shadows to grace us with your presence.”
Rowan didn’t flinch. “You summoned me. I came.”
“Indeed,” Elder Vanya said coolly. “It seems we must now address the matter of *visitors* arriving on our lands without approval.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “If you’re referring to Charlie—my sister—she’s no visitor.”
Elder Malric scoffed. “She hasn’t been part of this pack since she was a child. Raised outside our walls. Among *them.*”
“She was *taken*,” Rowan snapped, voice cutting through the air. “Stolen. Abused. And she still clawed her way back here. To us.”
“She brings with her another outsider,” Elder Bram said, fingers steepled before him. “A mate who has never sworn loyalty to our pack. That’s a concern.”
“Luther is her mate. He hasn’t posed a threat,” Rowan said, his tone measured. “He’s here to protect her. Nothing more.”
“And how do we know that?” Malric pressed, eyes gleaming. “You’ve been… compromised before.”
The tension in the Elder chamber was thick, suffocating.
But Rowan didn’t back down. He stepped forward again, his jaw clenched and his eyes like steel.
“I wasn’t going to say this,” he began, voice low and dangerous, “but it seems you need reminding.”
The Elders quieted, watching him warily.
“You sit here and question Charlie’s place in this pack as if she’s nothing more than a stranger at our gates,” Rowan said, gaze sweeping across them. “But tell me—how short are your memories?”
Elder Malric scoffed. “We are not prone to sentimentality, Alpha.”
“This isn’t sentiment,” Rowan growled. “This is fact.”
He let the silence linger before continuing. “A year ago, when the werewolf disease swept through the northern territories, it wasn’t you sitting in the infection camps. It wasn’t any of you who walked through the bodies of feral wolves losing their minds to the sickness. You remember what we called them? The Broken-Howl plague.”
There was a grim nod from Elder Vanya.
“Well, Charlie and her mates—Luther and Liam—risked everything to treat the infected. While the rest of the world descended into chaos, they stayed. Held back the madness with their bare hands. She lost wolves. She bled for them. For us.”
Rowan’s voice grew sharper. “And when we had no other choice but to intervene, I—your Alpha—led warriors into her territory. Not as enemies. But as allies.”
He looked each Elder in the eye.
“We stayed in her pack. We ate at her tables. We trained beside her wolves while she kept the sick and infected from spilling into our lands. Charlie fought for us. For this pack. For werewolves everywhere.”
Bram cleared his throat, clearly unsettled. “Those were… desperate times, Alpha. Desperation leads to desperate alliances.”
Rowan snarled. “Call it what you want. But alliances forged in blood and survival are stronger than politics whispered behind closed doors.”
Elder Malric’s face tightened. “And yet she’s returned without invitation. During a time of instability.”
Rowan leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near growl. “She didn’t come for power. She came because I asked her. Because I trusted her. Because while some of you sit here and plot ways to force my hand, Charlie is someone I know won’t stab me in the back the moment I turn away.”
Rowan’s teeth clenched, but he forced his temper down. “Let’s be clear. Charlie is my blood. She is just as much a part of this pack as I am. You will not treat her like a trespasser.”
Elder Vanya exchanged a look with Elder Bram. “The pack is unsettled, Alpha. Wolves are on edge. Your… personal complications have already weakened morale.”
“You think bringing my sister home is a weakness?” Rowan asked, stepping forward, eyes flashing.
Elder Malric’s fingers tapped the arm of his chair. “It’s a distraction. We need unity. Stability. Not more questions.”
“You want stability?” Rowan growled. “Then stop trying to control everything from this chamber like we’re still in the old days. The world is shifting. The rogues are growing bolder. And we have traitors within our walls.”
The room stilled.
Rowan let the silence hang before adding, “So if you want to keep debating whether my sister belongs here, go ahead. But I’ll be focused on protecting this pack from the threats that actually matter.”
Elder Vanya tapped her fingers on the armrest, her gaze more contemplative than cold. “You’ve made your point, Alpha.”
“Have I?” Rowan asked. “Because if this council cannot recognize loyalty when it’s staring them in the face, maybe it’s not the Alpha who needs reminding of his responsibilities.”
He let that hang in the air like a blade unsheathed.
Elder Malric didn’t speak, but the glint in his eyes said enough.
Good.
He turned on his heel and strode out, the chamber’s heavy door slamming shut behind him. He didn’t need their approval. But he’d be damned if he let them turn Charlie into a target—after everything she’d done.
Not again.
He needed answers—and Giselle.
And time was running out.
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