Rain lashed against the windows of the Silvercrest hall, the storm's fury echoing the unrest inside.
The council had scattered, but whispers still clung to the air like smoke — questions left unanswered, doubts that refused to die.
Elder Taren lingered near the dying hearth, his gnarled hands folded behind his back. "He hides behind silence," he muttered to Beta Garrick. "That man will bury us all before he admits the truth."
Elder Miriam's gaze was steady, her tone soft but firm. "Then it's time someone forces him to speak. The pack deserves to know what kind of Alpha they follow."
Garrick hesitated, jaw tight. "You'd have me challenge him?"
"I'd have you remind him," Miriam said, "that loyalty is earned by truth — not fear."
Taren's eyes gleamed with bitter amusement. "You'll find no truth in that man, Beta. Only hunger dressed as honor."
The Alpha's study was dim, lit only by a single candle that cast a harsh glow across maps, letters, and scrolls strewn across the desk.
Roran stood before the window, watching the rain trace veins down the glass. When Garrick entered, he didn't turn.
"Elders still whispering?" Roran asked, voice low and measured.
"They're not the only ones," Garrick replied. "The pack is restless. They want to know why Kael Thorn wants the girl — and why you protect her like she's your blood."
Roran's lips curved into something too thin to be a smile. "Because she might as well be."
Garrick frowned. "You found her. You didn't sire her."
"No," Roran said softly, turning at last. His eyes gleamed with a light that didn't reach his expression. "But I found something worth more than blood that day."
The Beta stepped forward, voice steady but edged. "Then tell me the truth. What did you find on that battlefield?"
For a moment, the Alpha said nothing. The storm outside filled the silence — wind, rain, and distant thunder.
Finally, Roran spoke. "When I reached Bloodbane's den, it was already over. Their Alpha dead, their healers slaughtered. And there — in the ruin — a child. Barefoot, crying, covered in ash and blood."
His gaze drifted, far away. "She was trying to heal a dying wolf. Her hands glowed. Not with light — but with fate. I saw it move. I saw death change its course."
Garrick's brow furrowed. "Impossible."
Roran's voice sharpened. "I saw it. The Bloodbane line held the Moon's oldest gift — the power to twist what was written. To heal beyond the Goddess's will. To change destiny itself."
He took a step closer, eyes burning. "Do you understand what that means, Garrick? She isn't cursed. She's blessed. A weapon carved by the divine."
"You kept her for her power," Garrick said quietly. "Not out of mercy."
Roran smiled — slow, cold. "Mercy? No. Mercy wins nothing. But power—" he gestured to the walls around them, the territory they ruled "—power keeps this pack alive. While others prayed to the Moon, I took her gift into my hands."
Garrick's voice dropped. "You used her."
"I saved her," Roran snapped. "And I'll use her again if I must. You think Kael Thorn's interest is pity? No. He remembers what her bloodline could do. And if he gets her, he wins this war before it begins."
The Beta's expression hardened. "She can't even shift. She doesn't know what she is."
"That's the beauty of it," Roran said, almost reverent. "She doesn't need to. Her power is dormant, but it answers to fear, to pain, to survival. When the right moment comes—she'll awaken. And when she does, Silvercrest will no longer kneel to anyone. Not to Kael. Not to the Moon."
Garrick stared at him, speechless. The words hung in the air like smoke — blasphemy wrapped in conviction.
"You're playing with fate," Garrick whispered. "You'll doom us all."
Roran's smirk returned, faint and cruel. "Fate belongs to those bold enough to claim it."
Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the walls. Garrick stepped back, his loyalty wavering under the weight of what he'd heard.
As he turned to leave, Roran's voice stopped him cold.
"Remember, Beta — I rebuilt this pack from ruin. I won't lose it over a girl. If Kael comes for her, he'll find nothing left to take."
Outside the door, Garrick paused, breath unsteady.
For the first time, he saw the Alpha not as a protector — but as a man who would burn the world to keep what he'd stolen.
And somewhere beyond the storm, a distant howl rose — low and mournful.
The kind that made even the strongest wolves remember that some fates, once defied, always return to collect.