Page 53 of Wolf's Reckoning
“I don’t need to knock.” I pushed the hide flap aside and stepped into the shadows.
The scent of sage and iron filled the space. A low fire burned in the hearth, casting flickering light across the tent walls. Shelves lined with jars, roots, and dried herbs. It smelled like a memory that was always out of reach. Like something older than law.
The druid was already waiting. Of course. They stood by the fire, robes loose, eyes dark with knowledge they didn’t share. “You made quite a scene.”
“A scene?” I didn’t blink. “I made a statement.”
“A hostile one.”
“No. A protective one.”
They turned to face me fully. “You sat in Malric’s chair.”
“And no one stopped me.”
Silence. Then they spoke. “You’re not being sympathetic, Wolfe.”
“I’m not trying to be.” I moved closer. “This pack is in flux. You know it. I know it. The rogues roaming this territory know it. You’re losing control.”
The druid didn’t flinch. “Control is an illusion. Stability is not.”
“And you really believe that marrying Rowen to some half-trained show dog brings stability?”
Their jaw clenched. “The old ways demand structure. An alpha. A bonded pair, if possible. That is how it’s always been.”
“And look where that’s gotten you.”
They looked at me sharply. “You question Luna’s wisdom?”
“I question your interpretation of it.” I leaned in, voice low. “You’ve tried to twist tradition into a bond. And you know me, druid, I’m not a wolf that wears a collar.”
They took a step back, just a breath. Just enough to acknowledge they felt the pressure of my presence.
“You want to rule here?” they asked me, eyes narrowing on my face. “You do,” they said with something that was almost surprise.
I laughed quietly and darkly. “I already do. You’re just too proud to admit it.”
Another pause. The fire crackled.
The druid looked between us, their expression deliberately blank. “You’re dangerous, Wolfe.”
“No, I’m really not,” I said. “But Iamnecessary.”
The druid studied me, and I allowed them to. Let them see me—the raw certainty in my stance, the weight of my dominance pressing against the air like a coming tempest.
Finally, they spoke. Quiet. Controlled. “The pack won’t follow you if you destroy everything that came before.”
I stepped to the doorway, hand resting on the frame. “Then maybe it’s time for all of the pack to decide what traditions are worth keeping,” I said. “And what needs to burn.”
I left with Killian following me out.
“Not one I’d make an enemy of,” he murmured as wewalked, casting a glance back to make sure we were far enough away not to be overheard.
“The druid is not my enemy,” I told him. “But I refuse to let them be an obstacle.”
“How does this work?” Killian asked as he looked around at a scattered pack. “You lead both packs, I get it, but how?” He shook his head. “The packs are too far apart for this to be easy.”
I knew that. “No one said it was going to be easy.” I kept my eyes on Rowen’s chestnut brown hair as she talked to her father’s beta, Lewis. She looked determined, and that could only mean trouble. Forme. “Speaking of things not being easy,” I muttered when I saw her glance across the grass and see me.
