Chapter 706
Chapter 705: The Hands That Know
The square remained suspended in silence after Orion’s final words. Snow continued its slow descent, dusting the shoulders of the gathered pack members, settling on the platform where Sophia and Orion stood side by side. No one moved. No one spoke.
Then Orion’s voice cut through the quiet again, steadier now, as if the hardest part was behind him.
“This should be the first and the last time that Sophia speaks and people question her authority p>
He turned his head slightly, looking out at the crowd.
“She is my equal,” he said. “No—I dare say she is of a higher authority than I am. She should be even more respected than me p>
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
“She has the blessing of the goddess. She has a gift no one else has. It is not like mine—mine is a curse born of punishment. Hers is different. She was written into a prophecy that has been passed down from generation to generation p>
His voice hardened slightly.
“She has that much authority over me. So no one is to question her authority ever again p>
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
“But if you still want her to leave,” he continued, his tone almost casual now, “you may as well speak up now p>
No one said anything.
The crowd remained still, their faces turned toward the platform, toward Orion, toward Sophia. Some looked ashamed. Others looked thoughtful. A few simply looked tired, as if the weight of the day had finally caught up with them.
Then, from somewhere near the middle of the square, a voice spoke.
“I knew she was telling the truth p>
A woman stepped forward slightly, her arms crossed over her chest.
“I have said it from the beginning. Some of you just did not want to listen p>
Another voice followed. Then another.
“She saved us from the plague p>
“She tried to save Alpha Alaric p>
“She was a child p>
“She is not her mother p>
The agreements came slowly at first, then faster, building into a murmur of acknowledgment that spread through the crowd like ripples across still water.
No one demanded she leave. No one called for her blood. The anger that had been present that morning had faded, replaced by something quieter, something closer to shame.
Orion waited until the murmurs subsided, then spoke again.
“Like Sophia said, there is a war coming p>
His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the gravity beneath it.
“For the goddess’s sake, and for the sake of everyone who wants to remain alive, you should all listen to her. Follow her. Because things will get hectic, and I am not going to let us lose our home a second time p>
He turned to Sophia, his eyes softening.
Then he gave her a small nod.
A sign that he was stepping down and giving her the space to speak now.
Sophia swallowed.
She had not expected to speak again. She had thought Orion had said everything that needed to be said. But he was looking at her, waiting, and the crowd was looking at her too; she could not simply stand there in silence.
She cleared her throat.
“Orion has said it all, really,” she began. “I do not have much to add p>
She paused, her gaze sweeping across the faces before her.
“The war is not going to be simple. It will be brutal. It will cost us. But we must protect our home. We must protect each other p>
Her voice steadied.
“And I will do everything in my power to ensure that we all survive p>
She bowed.
Then she turned and walked down from the platform.
Orion followed.
The snow fell around them as they descended the steps, their boots crunching against the wooden planks. Behind them, the crowd began to stir—some still talking in low voices, others already dispersing, making their way back to their homes and their lives.
Sophia did not look back.
She walked until she reached the edge of the square, where the crowd thinned and the path opened toward the heart of the compound.
She was just about to walk through when a woman stepped into their path.
Sophia stopped as she observed the woman.
She was tall and dark-skinned, her black hair braided into two long plaits that fell over her shoulders. A cream-colored feather earring swayed from one ear, and delicate bangles lined her wrists, catching the pale afternoon light. Her eyes were a warm coffee brown, and her expression was calm but intense.
She bowed first to Sophia, then to Orion.
Orion’s brows drew together.
“Olga,” he said. “What are you doing here p>
Olga straightened, her gaze shifting to Sophia.
“I came for her p>
Sophia frowned.
Olga’s lips curved into a small, respectful smile.
“My name is Olga. I am in charge of hairdressing in the pack p>
Sophia blinked.
“It is a very small department,” Olga continued. “And though I say hairdressing, it is more than that; it focuses on beauty—tattoos, makeup, hair, that sort of thing p>
She paused, her gaze dropping briefly to Sophia’s hair before lifting again.
“Orion said your hair is black because of experiments Victoria performed on you p>
Sophia’s hand moved instinctively toward her hair, then stopped.
“Yes,” she said quietly.
Olga nodded.
“May I take a look p>
Sophia hesitated for a while, but then she nodded, because she would rather be herself than the image her mother wanted her to be.
She nodded, and Olga gestured for her to move closer. Sophia stepped forward.
The woman was taller than her. She reached out slowly, giving Sophia time to pull away, and took a strand of Sophia’s hair between her fingers.
She studied it, her brow furrowing.
“Even the edges have been destroyed,” she murmured. “This is not healthy. Not at all p>
Sophia said nothing.
Olga’s fingers moved gently, parting the dark strands, working through the hair with a careful touch. She lifted a section, then another, revealing the scalp beneath.
And then she frowned deeply, as though troubled.
She continued her examination, her fingers moving with quiet precision, her frown deepening with every passing second.
The snow fell around them, soft and steady.
And Olga’s hands kept moving, searching, finding.
Then she finally pulled her hands back and looked at Sophia, her expression troubled.