Andrew's POV
The scent of blood still clung to the air like a bitter fog. Ash floated down from singed trees, blanketing the ruins of what had once been peaceful ground. I stood at the edge of the courtyard, where broken bodies and shattered stone whispered of the chaos that had only just ended. My wolf itched under my skin, still restless, still furious. But I had to keep my head.
I hadn't seen Jamie.
Not since I told him to hide.
He'd promised he would stay safe, but as the adrenaline began to fade and the damage came into sharper focus, my thoughts spiralled toward him. Was he hurt? Was he scared? Did he still feel safe enough to trust me?
I clenched my jaw, dragging my eyes away from the carnage and toward the Council Hall. That was where the heat had shifted—the living battlefield now turned into a political arena. The Council was in disarray, and for the first time since the battle, my father was finally conscious.
Alpha Jackson sat hunched in his seat, pale but breathing. His shoulder was bandaged from where Rufus had torn into him. Only the power of his wolf had kept him alive, but even that wasn't enough to restore the commanding presence he once held. He was a shadow of himself, the air around him dimming.
The room buzzed with questions. Accusations.
"How did Rufus bypass the barrier?"
"Why wasn't there a warning from the patrols?"
"Who failed their post?"
It was Caroline who spoke first, standing tall and silent near the edge of the chamber beside Ann. Her posture betrayed nothing, but her eyes scanned the room like a predator. Watching. Waiting.
"I believe," Elder Maelin's voice cut through the clamour, "we should be asking a more important question—where was Andrew when the territory was under siege?"
Silence dropped like a stone.
I didn't flinch, not at the challenge. I stepped forward, standing tall in the middle of the circle. "I was defending our people. I led a flank that turned the battle in our favour."
Cassian scoffed from across the hall. His lip curled, his tone dripping with smug superiority. "That's funny. I don't remember seeing you until the battle was nearly done. Must've been busy with other… distractions."
My fists clenched. The jab wasn't subtle.
"You're out of line," I said calmly, but the warning in my voice was unmistakable.
Cassian stepped forward. "I'm only saying what others are thinking. Our Alpha was nearly killed. Patrols failed. Our people died. And the supposed next-in-line was nowhere to be found."
Alpha Jackson tried to sit upright, but even his breath was laboured. "Enough."
But Maelin wasn't finished. He stood, clasping his hands behind his back, voice cool and deliberate. "With all due respect, Alpha… this Council must consider the inevitable. Your condition… it raises concerns. If something happens to you, who leads?"
My blood simmered.
Oona's voice followed like silk over blades. "It's not just about leadership, Alpha. It's about trust. And clearly, trust has been compromised."
Some Council members nodded, hesitant, but swayed. Others looked to me, faces torn between doubt and defence.
It was Elder Thorne, old and sharp-eyed, who spoke next. "Andrew fought like an Alpha today. Many saw it with their own eyes. The boy shifted mid-strike, coordinated patrols that were faltering, and turned the tide."
More murmurs.
Oona tilted her head slightly, an unreadable smile on her lips. Caroline's expression didn't change, though I felt her eyes on me more than anyone else's.
"I will not be undermined by fear or schemes," I said, my voice rising with the power in my chest. "Our people were attacked. We survived. Now we rebuild—and I will not let our enemies, or anyone inside this room, use our losses as a weapon."
Cassian took a step forward, fists clenched, as if he might speak again—but this time, he didn't. Perhaps something in my eyes gave him pause.
Alpha Jackson exhaled slowly, struggling to rise. Ann helped him up, and he gave me a look—one that held pride, but also grief.
"Let the boy lead the healing," he rasped. "At least for now."
The Council murmured again, this time with less fire. Some voices are in agreement. Others are still uncertain.
As the tension in the room simmered, I looked toward the back doors, hoping Jamie would walk in, safe and whole.
He hadn't yet.
And until I saw him, until I knew he was truly alright, I couldn't take a full breath.
But if anyone in this room thought they could take what was mine—my people, my future, my mate—they would learn that I had only just begun to fight.