Chapter 212- The King’s Shadow
CJ
The second day in Adrian’s old pack felt heavier than the first. The land itself seemed restless—soil tainted by old blood and grief. The air still carried the faint metallic scent of battle, a reminder that this place had seen more betrayal than unity.
I’d risen before dawn, my sleep restless and fractured. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lexy—her hand on her belly, her eyes full of quiet strength. The bond between us pulsed faintly in my chest, steady but distant. She was fine, I told myself over and over. She had our children, our warriors, and Tarria nearby. Still, it didn’t quiet the instinct that screamed I should be at her side.
Instead, I was here—among wolves who still flinched when they saw me, as if my power might turn on them the way Adrian’s had.
The morning started with briefings. Reports of border patrols, food shortages, and internal disputes poured in. My commanders were efficient, but the pack wolves themselves were hesitant. They avoided meeting my eyes, whispered when they thought I couldn’t hear.
“Some of them still think Adrian’s alive,” said Darius, one of the alliance lieutenants stationed here. “They don’t trust outsiders. Especially kings.”
I gave a curt nod. “Then we’ll give them reason to trust action instead of titles.”
By midday, I could feel the unease growing stronger—like a low vibration in the ground before an earthquake. The guards on the eastern wall reported movement in the forest, too organized to be wandering rogues.
When the first flare went up—crimson smoke curling into the cloudy sky—I was already halfway to the wall.
“They’re trying to take back the main hall!” one of the scouts shouted as I reached the ramparts.
Below, a group of at least thirty wolves surged through the broken outer gate, weapons drawn, eyes glinting with familiar arrogance. Adrian’s crest was painted crudely on their armor—his loyalists, or what remained of them.
“Rebels,” Darius spat. “They think we’re weak.”
“They’re about to learn otherwise,” I growled, dropping from the wall before anyone could stop me.
The ground cracked slightly under my landing. My aura rippled through the courtyard, a dark, electric pulse that stilled even the wind for a moment. The rebels hesitated, recognizing the weight of an alpha’s presence.
“You think you can claim a dead man’s throne?” I shouted, my voice carrying across the field. “This pack belongs to no tyrant. It belongs to those who have survived him.”
One of the rebels—a broad-shouldered wolf with a scar across his chest—snarled. “You don’t belong here! You and your alliance came to enslave us!”
I stepped forward, my eyes glowing faintly gold. “If I came to enslave you,” I said calmly, “you wouldn’t still be standing.”
They charged anyway.
The first few came fast—too fast for the untrained eye—but I saw every movement, every flicker of intent. I deflected the first strike with a block, spun, and sent the attacker sprawling into the mud. The next came at me with claws extended; I ducked low, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him into the stone wall.
The others hesitated, but their leader roared, and chaos erupted.
I let instinct take over. Xazul pressed close beneath the surface, lending me strength and speed without fully transforming. Energy flared from my hands—dark gold sparks that danced across the air. I didn’t want to kill them; I wanted to break their will to fight.
The clash echoed through the ruins. Rebels fell one after another, not dead, but broken enough to remember what power truly was.
Still, there were many. For every one I dropped, two more rushed forward. Darius and the alliance guards joined the fray, forming a circle around the civilians who had gathered near the hall.
A woman screamed as a rebel wolf leapt toward her. I moved before thought could intervene—crossing the courtyard in a blur, catching the attacker midair. My energy flared, and the rebel’s weapon shattered in his hand.
“You attack those you swore to protect,” I snarled, forcing him to his knees. “Adrian’s rule is over. And if you can’t accept that—then leave this place in ruin, as he did.”
I released him, and he collapsed, gasping. The remaining rebels hesitated again—this time out of fear, not confusion.
Then came the sound that ended it: a low, thunderous growl that rolled through the courtyard like an avalanche.
It was mine.
I hadn’t meant to release it, but the moment it filled the air, everything stopped. Every wolf present—ally, enemy, and civilian alike—felt the raw authority behind it. My aura spread wide, wrapping the entire pack in its reach.
“Enough!” I roared. “This is not Adrian’s pack anymore! This land belongs to peace, not tyranny! You can stand with us… or fall with him!”
Silence followed, broken only by the wind rustling the torn banners. One by one, the rebels dropped their weapons.
Their leader was the last to kneel. “We… we didn’t think you’d protect us,” he said, his voice hoarse. “We thought you were here to replace him.”
I exhaled slowly, stepping closer until I stood over him. “Replacing him was never my goal. Healing what he broke is.”
He nodded once, shame crossing his face.
The rest of the day was spent tending to the wounded, repairing the gate, and calming the civilians. I worked alongside them, not above them—lifting debris, giving orders, reassuring the children who peeked out from behind their mothers.
By the time the sun began to set, exhaustion pulled at my limbs, but my mind was clearer than it had been in days.
As I stood in the courtyard, wiping sweat from my brow, the scarred rebel approached again. He carried a wrapped bundle—a torn flag bearing Adrian’s mark.
“We burned the rest,” he said quietly. “Didn’t feel right keeping them.”
I nodded. “You did the right thing.”
He hesitated. “You protected us today, even when we turned on you. That… means something.”
I met his eyes, and for the first time, I saw something new there—respect. Not forced, not fearful. Earned.
The pack began to gather slowly around us, murmuring, whispering, bowing their heads in quiet acknowledgment.
“King CJ,” someone called from the crowd. “What happens now?”
I looked around at the faces—tired, wary, but no longer filled with defiance. The energy here was shifting, transforming.
“Now,” I said, raising my voice so all could hear, “you rebuild. You heal. This pack will stand again—but not as Adrian’s, or as mine. It will stand as its own. Under the alliance’s protection, not its control.”
A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd. Even the children seemed to stand a little taller.
As the torches flickered to life around the courtyard, I finally let my shoulders relax. Xazul settled inside me, its growl fading into quiet satisfaction.
I turned my gaze east, toward the horizon where home lay. Through the faint hum of the bond, I felt Lexy stir—perhaps sensing my calm for the first time all day.
“She felt that,” I murmured under my breath, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
Darius approached beside me. “They trust you now,” he said, watching the wolves disperse. “It’s a start.”
I nodded, still watching the fading light. “Good. Because the only way forward is together.”
For the first time since arriving, the air didn’t feel heavy anymore. The land seemed to exhale—relieved, as if it too had been waiting for someone to stand firm against the ghosts of its past.
And as night settled over the pack, I knew that, finally, they saw me not as an invader… but as their protector.
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