(Thomas POV)
The elders' hall wasn't a place I'd ever stepped into before.
I'd driven past it, everyone in Forks did, sooner or later, but "past" wasn't the same as inside. Up close, it felt heavier than any building had a right to feel, as if the wood had absorbed generations of voices and decided to keep them.
Warm light glowed behind the windows. The air smelled like cedar and smoke and damp wool drying somewhere out of sight. I rolled up the windows and shut off the truck, then sat there for a beat with my hands on the steering wheel, listening to my own breathing, gathering my thoughts for what was to come.
When I opened the door and walked up the steps, the porch boards creaked under my weight, an ordinary sound that somehow made everything more real.
The hall door opened before I could knock twice.
Sam Uley stood there, face set in that careful neutrality he wore like armor. He didn't offer a smile, but he didn't block the doorway either.
"You're on time," he said.
"I'm trying to start this right," I answered, and stepped inside.
The room was simple, a long table, a few chairs, old photographs on the walls, the quiet feeling of a place that wasn't built to impress anyone. It didn't need to. The authority in it wasn't decoration.
Five people waited at the head table.
Billy Black sat at the center in his wheelchair, hands resting lightly on the arms as if he'd been born there with the same calm control. His eyes tracked me in a way that made it impossible to forget he'd been doing this a long time, watching people, weighing them, deciding what they were before they ever realized they were being judged.
Beside him sat old Quil Ateara, posture straight as a fence post, expression carved into something stern and old-fashioned. He looked at me like he remembered every mistake I'd ever made and considered reminding me of those failures a sacred duty.
Sue Clearwater sat on Billy's other side, composed, steady, her presence quiet but unmistakable. The surprise of seeing her there hit me hard enough that my chest tightened.
Leah's mom.
That meant a lot of things I wasn't ready to untangle in this room, but one of them was simple: Leah wasn't invisible here. So long as she was an Elder then the past wouldn't repeat itself.
At the far end Sam took his seat, an Elder not by age, but by necessity, because leadership didn't care how young you were when it decided to claim you, and he led the Pack.
The last elder sat to Sue's other side, a man I didn't recognize, Sam introduced him as Terry Yindi. He was quiet-eyed, still as stone, watching me like he was measuring the distance between what I said and what I meant.
Sam cleared his throat. "Thomas Raizel, this is the Elder Council." He announced.
Billy didn't move much, but the room seemed to align around him anyway. "You asked for a meeting."
"Yes, sir," I said. "Thank you for hearing me."
I reached for the chair across from them out of habit, then stopped myself.
Quil's gaze sharpened like he'd been waiting for the slip.
Billy lifted a hand before Quil could speak, calm as a closed door. He nodded once toward the chair.
"Sit," Billy said. "We're not here for ceremony. We're here for clarity."
I sat carefully, setting my hands on the tabletop where everyone could see them. Not because I thought they'd accuse me of anything. Because this was still a room built on old lessons: trust was earned in small, visible choices.
Sue's attention stayed on my face. Not hostile. Just direct.
"You're offering to help train the pack," she said. "Sam has given us a brief overview of your discussion."
Sam's jaw tightened a fraction at the mention of his name, the reflex of a man who carried too many outcomes. But he didn't look surprised by where this was going. If anything, he looked like he'd already fought the first round of this argument before I ever walked in.
Terry Yindi leaned forward slightly, elbows close, voice even. "Most of us see the value in it. Wolves are strong, but strength doesn't replace experience. And experience doesn't appear just because someone wants it."
That was the first time the room openly tilted in my direction, and it took the edge off my nervousness in a way I hadn't expected.
Billy nodded once, slow. "We've heard the stories of warriors who were brave enough to charge and not trained enough to live. Our graveyards are full of them, we won't pretend otherwise."
Quil's mouth tightened, but he didn't contradict Billy. He just stared at me like agreement was a separate argument he intended to win later.
Sue spoke again, steady as a heartbeat. "If you can help them without causing another conflict, that matters."
Sam finally shifted his weight, his voice low but clear. "No one here thinks the pack is weak. They think the pack is young."
That landed with a quiet finality. A leader naming the truth without letting it become an insult.
Billy's eyes stayed on mine. "So. Tell us what you're proposing."
I took a breath. "Training that closes the gap between pack hunting and individual survival. Not to change who they are, wolves are wolves for a reason, but so that if someone gets isolated for even a few seconds, they don't die for it."
Terry nodded faintly, like that was exactly the sentence he'd been waiting for.
Sue's gaze didn't waver. "You're talking about control drills."
"Yes," I said. "Footwork. Timing. Not taking bait. Not charging in a straight line just because it feels good to hit something. Vampires count on anger making you predictable."
Quil made a sound in the back of his throat. Not a scoff exactly, but close.
"You speak like you're one of us," he said, each word precise. "Like you have the right."
The temperature in the room didn't drop, but it shifted, attention tightening, waiting to see if this turned into a fight.
I kept my voice level. "I'm speaking like someone who spars against multiple vampires almost every morning. Someone who was shown, painfully I might add, that brute force and rushing in will kill me."
Quil's eyes narrowed further. "You're just an abomination from a bloodline that should have been put down instead of banished. Believing your bastard blood makes you stronger than our Wolf Warriors. You talk of training them, but I wonder if you just want to steal our secrets?"
There it was. The real blade, finally out in the open.
My spine wanted to stiffen. My pride wanted to rise to meet his like two animals deciding which one got the ground.
I didn't let it.
"I don't think my blood makes me special," I said. "I think it makes me responsible, and I won't stand by and watch any of the Wolf Warriors die if some can live because of training that I can provide."
Quil's mouth curled faintly. "Convenient excuse to get close to us."
Sam's head turned, sharp. "Quil."
Not an order. Not a warning. Something closer to enough.
Quil didn't look at Sam. "He wants access. To train our wolves. To put hands on our warriors." His eyes cut back to me. "Tell us you won't try to take over the pack once you're in the middle of it."
Billy didn't flinch at Quil's tone. He just watched me, patient, but absolute. The question was valid, even if Quil enjoyed the way it sounded.
Sue's voice stayed calm, but it carried steel. "And tell us you won't push them so hard that someone gets hurt trying to prove something."
Terry added quietly, "You can't walk into a group of young wolves and not change the shape of their pride. That's what training does. It rearranges hierarchy whether it intends to or not."
The room went still, waiting.
I nodded once. "That's fair."
Then I looked at Sam, because if this was going to work it had to be anchored to the person who would live with it after I left.
"I'm not here to lead," I said. "Sam leads. Period. If training happens, it happens under his authority. He sets the rules. He calls it off if it turns wrong. And if anyone tries to treat me like a replacement, that's where it ends."
Sam didn't soften, but something in his posture eased, one small degree.
Quil's eyes stayed hard. "Words."
"Then make it structure," I said. "Put it in terms. Council oversight. Observed sessions. Limits. If you want a trial period with a clean end date, I'll sign it in whatever form you use, verbal, written, witnessed. I don't care. I want it clean."
Billy's fingers tapped once on the arm of his chair. Thoughtful. Not impatient.
Sue's attention sharpened. "And 'not pushing too hard'?"
I answered that without flinching. "I'll be rough when it's necessary to teach reality. I won't be cruel. There's a difference. I'm not there to break them. I'm there to teach them what breaks them so they can stop it from happening in the field."
Terry nodded once, slow. "That's the right distinction."
Quil's expression didn't change. "And when one of them refuses to listen."
"That's when Sam steps in," I said, and kept my eyes on him. "Because discipline isn't my job. It's his. I can give resistance. I can give scenarios. I can give consequences that don't leave scars. But I'm not taking your pack from you."
Sam's voice came low, edged. "And if someone decides to make it personal?"
I didn't pretend not to understand what he meant. "Then I keep it impersonal. If I can't, then I will leave."
Quil's mouth tightened like he didn't like how reasonable that sounded.
He shifted targets.
"And Emily," Quil said, and the word hit the table like a stone. "When you broke our rules and dragged her to a hospital where Cullens work. You put her under their eyes. Under their hands. You brought danger to her doorstep and acted like your judgment outranked our law."
The room tightened again, but this time it wasn't aimed at me. It was aimed at memory.
I felt my jaw lock.
Then I forced it open.
"I took her to the nearest place that could keep her alive," I said. "Because she was bleeding, and I wasn't going to call around to see if there was a hospital I wasn't allowed to take her to. Had you bothered to acknowledge me enough to share your rules it may have gone differently, but I doubt it."
Quil's eyes flashed. "You don't get to—"
Sam's voice cut cleanly through it. "He saved her."
Every head turned a fraction toward Sam.
He didn't look at Quil when he said it. He looked at the table, like he was pinning the truth there so nobody could kick it aside.
"I didn't like how it happened," Sam continued, jaw tight. "I didn't like the risk. I didn't like that it embarrassed us. But she lived." His voice roughened on the last word. "And I'm not going to pretend I'd trade that for pride. If there is any blame to fall from that situation it will fall on me for my lack of control causing it."
Quil's nostrils flared, but he didn't speak.
Sue's gaze flicked to Sam, approval, quiet and immediate, then back to me.
"That incident is exactly why we're asking these seemingly unfair questions," she said. "You act. Fast. Sometimes alone. That can save someone… or it can start a war."
I nodded once. "I understand."
Billy leaned forward slightly, eyes steady. "So give us your assurance, Thomas. Not that you'll be perfect. That you'll be accountable."
I didn't hesitate. "I will not make decisions over Sam's head. I will not cross treaty lines with the Cullens. I will not turn training into a power grab. If this becomes about ego, for them or for me, it ends. And if I break your terms, I won't be around for you to warn me twice."
That hung in the air a moment, solid.
Terry's eyes stayed on my face. "And why offer this at all? If you're not gaining power, land, or influence?"
I kept my voice simple. "Because I live here. Because I'm Quileute by blood whether Quil likes it or not. Because Bella is my sister, and Charlie is my family, and if something comes for Forks it won't stop at your imaginary line or mine. And because I don't want to attend any funeral that could've been prevented by better preparation."
Sue's expression tightened at the word funeral in a way she tried not to show. It still showed.
Billy sat back, considering. Then he looked down the line…Quil, Sue, Terry, Sam…and the room waited with him.
Finally he spoke, measured, calm.
"We'll allow a trial," Billy said. "Limited. Observed. Under Sam's authority. The council sets the boundaries. Sam sets the work."
Terry nodded once. "Clear start. Clear stop."
Sue's voice followed, quiet and firm. "And Seth trains too. If you're training wolves, you train all wolves."
It wasn't a challenge. It was a fact. Seth may be young, but he wouldn't always be and anything he could learn now would help later.
Sam's gaze flicked to Sue for a heartbeat, acknowledgment, then back to me.
"You show up when I tell you," Sam said. "You do the work. You don't make it complicated."
I nodded once. "I can do that."
Quil didn't look pleased. But he also didn't stand up and veto it.
Instead, he stared at me like a man carving warnings into stone.
"If you make my people pay for your temper," Quil said, "I will remember."
I met his eyes, steady. "Then don't give me a reason to."
It wasn't a threat. It was honesty.
Billy's voice ended it before Quil could decide to push again. "Sam and you will work out the terms."
And then the questions began.