Page 103 of Fated
Fenrir surged forward at the mention of Asher. Caleb’s canines sharpened as a subtle flash of gold brightened his eyes.
Elder Norvik leaned forward. “You’re young, Caleb. That fire in your chest is admirable, but dangerous.” Each word selected deliberately, a reminder of the past costs of Caleb’s impulsivity. “You’re not just a wolf anymore—you’re our alpha. Your decisions affect us all.”
Something cold settled in Caleb’s gut as he felt the leash tighten, pulling him back from the edge of action as it had done for over a decade.
Fenrir’s voice hummed in the back of his mind, steady and encouraging.“Lead, Caleb. Show them the alpha you are.”
Caleb’s hands rested on the table, fingers splaying wide as he leaned forward. “I hear your concerns.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “But let me be clear—I am not the same wolf who stood before you at sixteen, shaking in fear after we were attacked again.” He straightened, aura sharpening, touching every wolf in the room. “Iam the Alpha of Crescent Fang. Selene’s favored.Icarry the reincarnation of the first wolf.” He paused, eyes flaring gold, Fenrir fully present. “I respect your wisdom, but the final say will always bemine!”
The room erupted.
Erik’s hand slammed against the table as he leaned forward. “Respect isn’t enough when your choices endanger our pack!”
Caleb’s voice rose. “Endanger? If anything, what happened at Bloodstone saved lives!”
The shouting grew louder, voices overlapping as council members shifted in their seats—some leaning forward aggressively, others subtly angling their bodies toward Caleb in unconscious alignment with their alpha. A low-frequency growl, too deep for human ears but felt by every wolf in the room, rumbled from Caleb’s chest.
Frustration boiled over.
Claws extended.
Wood splintered beneath his palms.
He was seconds from losing control when Adolphus stood abruptly.
“Enough!” Adolphus thundered, silencing the room, fist slamming onto the table. His chair toppled back as he shoved to his feet. The elite warrior’s chest heaved, voice rising with unrestrained frustration. “The arguing is pointless!” Adolphus jabbed a finger toward the table. “We are not talking aboutwhat actually matters—what happened on the Bloodstone lands yesterday!”
Adolphus’s gaze swept the room, daring anyone to interrupt. “They are ourneighbors! That could have easily been our lands the rogues targeted. Yes, we’re battered, and Asher was injured, but we came backalive. And we saved the lives of wolves who are part of our community, aligned or not!”
The room fell silent. Adolphus’s words hung between them, undeniable. Norvik, who had been leaning forward in challenge only moments before, nodded his grizzled head.
Caleb’s shoulders lowered incrementally, claws retracting from the gouges they’d carved in the wooden table. His breath came easier as the council’s attention pivoted to the greater threat.
“What happened out there?” Erik asked finally, tone less accusatory.
Caleb gestured for Adolphus and Skol to take over, and they walked the group through the attack—the organized formations, the silver weapons, the calculated retreat that signaled outside coordination.
Garreth frowned. “That doesn’t sound like rogues at all.”
“They had the scent,” Caleb confirmed. “That sour tang you can’t mistake for anything else. But their behavior? It’s unprecedented.”
The council exchanged uneasy glances. Erik rubbed his temples. “Then this threat extends beyond Bloodstone. Their escalation demands our preparation.”
The conversation shifted into strategy. Garreth suggested focusing on Crescent Fang’s connections, trying to build more interest to rally the Collective. Erik emphasized the need for more information, urging Caleb to establish communication lines with other pack leaders.
“We need to notify as many packs as possible,” Erik said, hands steepled as he spoke. “But we can’t stretch ourselves too thin.”
“I agree,” Caleb replied. “We’ll start with our closest connection, Moonshadow. Bloodstone, Redridge—they’ve already been hit. They may know how best to spread the word. We can take our lead from them.”
As the discussion continued, Caleb shared details about Bloodstone’s casualties—over twenty dead, with more injured. “The silver poisoning means the death toll may rise in the coming days,” he said grimly. “I expect the funeral rites will be held within the week. I intend to go.”
Erik’s brow arched. “And what do you expect from this? A formal alliance?”
Caleb straightened in his chair, hands resting on the table as he met Erik’s gaze. He hesitated momentarily, lips pressing into a thin line as he gathered his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice carried a quiet intensity that commanded the room.
“I saw wolves fall, Erik. Wolves whose lives we couldn’t save.” His hands fisted against the wood, knuckles paling as battle memories replayed in his mind. The chaos, blood, and scent of death lingered like a shadow. “We were fortunate. We came back with our lives intact, but they weren’t so lucky. Attending their funeral rites isn’t about alliances or politics.”
Caleb’s hazel eyes swept across the table, meeting the elders’ wary stares. “It’s about honoring the souls that fought, the lives that Selene has welcomed back into her embrace.” He paused, lungs burning as he forced each breath to remain controlled. “It’s what you do for neighbors, for the wolves who share our community. It’s what’s right.”
