Chapter 51

[ 739 words ]

That’s a prison

51: 51.

That’s a prison Ronan

The hunter gives us nothing.

Not a name.

Not a faction.

Not even a lie good enough to be useful.

I stand across from him in the holding room, arms crossed, watching the way his eyes track every movement like he’s still calculating angles, still searching for an advantage he doesn’t have.

Barric tried brute force.

Kade tried intimidation.

I tried patience.

None of it cracked him.

He just bleeds, breathes, and smiles like he knows something we don’t.

My wolf snarls beneath my skin.

Break him.

“Not yet,” I murmur internally.

He’s useless.

“Not yet,” I repeat, sharper this time.

Because as much as I want to tear answers out of him, I can’t afford to lose control—not now.

Not with everything already hanging by a thread.

I push off the wall and step closer, crouching so we’re eye level.

“This is your last chance,” I tell him quietly.

He spits blood to the side and grins.

“Then I guess you’re out of luck.”

My jaw tightens.

For a split second, I consider it—just ending him.

Ending the problem, even if it doesn’t give me answers.

But that’s not leadership.

That’s impulse.

And I don’t get to be impulsive anymore.

I straighten and turn away.

“Lock him down,” I say.

Barric nods once.

I don’t look back as I leave.

The air outside feels heavier than it should.

Or maybe that’s just the weight sitting on my shoulders.

Two attacks in two weeks.

A visit from the Assembly.

And now a prisoner who refuses to talk.

My wolf paces.

They’re watching us.

I know.

They’re testing us.

I know.

Then act like an Alpha.

That earns a low breath from me.

But even as I say it, I know what he means.

It’s not just about fighting.

It’s about control.

About certainty.

And right now?

The pack doesn’t have it.

They’re already gathered when I step into the clearing.

Dozens of them.

Some standing rigid.

Some shifting restlessly.

All of them watching me.

Waiting.

The moment stretches.

And I feel it—that pressure.

Not fear.

Expectation.

They need answers.

They need stability.

They need me.

My wolf lifts his head.

Ours.

I step forward, letting my presence settle over them.

“Speak,” one of the older wolves says from the front.

“What’s going on, Alpha?”

Murmurs ripple through the group.

“Two attacks,” someone else adds.

“Back to back.”

“And the Assembly showing up before that—”

“This isn’t normal.”

“No,” I cut in, my voice carrying easily across the clearing.

“It’s not.”

Silence falls.

Good.

“At this point,” I continue, “we don’t have confirmation on who’s behind the attacks.”

That doesn’t go over well.

Voices rise again.

“You don’t know?”

“Then how are we supposed to feel safe?”

“Is this retaliation for something?”

My wolf bristles.

They question you.

They’re scared.

They should be angry, not doubtful.

They’re both.

And they have a right to be.

I raise a hand, and the noise dies down again.

“I understand your concerns,” I say.

“And you’re right to have them.”

A few heads tilt at that—surprised I’m not brushing it off.

“I won’t lie to you,” I go on.

“Something is happening. This many incidents, this close together… it’s not random.”

The tension spikes.

Good.

Let them feel the truth instead of false comfort.

But there’s another truth sitting in my chest.

One I can’t ignore.

One I shouldn’t ignore.

My wolf stiffens.

Say it.

I hesitate.

Because once I do, there’s no taking it back.

Because it will change how they see her.

But hiding it?

That’s worse.

I exhale slowly.

“There’s something else you need to know.”

The clearing goes still.

“Aria,” I say, my voice steady, “is a Sypher.”

For a second—

Nothing.

Then the whispers hit.

“Impossible—”

“A Sypher?”

“That’s a myth—”

“No, it’s not—”

“And she’s here?”

I don’t miss the shift.

Fear.

Awe.

Suspicion.

My wolf rises, hackles lifting.

They look at her like she’s a threat.

Stand down, I warn internally.

She’s ours.

Our pack won’t hurt her.

My wolf knew that but with a mating bond without an official claim he was feeling testy.

I let the noise settle before speaking again.

“I don’t yet know if her presence is connected to the attacks,” I say.

That’s the most honest answer I have.

And it lands exactly how I expect it to.

Badly.

“So it could be,” someone presses.

My jaw tightens.

“Yes,” I admit.

The word tastes like ash.

My wolf snarls.

Weak.

“No,” I counter.

“Honest.”

There’s a difference.

And they need truth more than pride.

I step forward, my voice hardening.

“But hear me clearly—she is under my protection.”

Silence snaps back into place.

“I will not tolerate anyone treating her as an enemy without cause.”

A few wolves shift uncomfortably.

Good.

They should.

“But,” I add, because leadership isn’t blind loyalty—it’s balance, “I also won’t hold it against anyone who decides this situation isn’t something they want to be part of.”

That gets their attention.

“If you feel your safety—or your family’s safety—is at risk,” I continue, “you have the right to transfer.”

Shock flickers across several faces.

“You’re giving us an out?” someone asks.

“I’m giving you a choice,” I correct.

My wolf growls low.

Don’t let them leave.

“I won’t cage them,” I shoot back internally.

“That’s not a pack. That’s a prison.”

If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.