CHAPTER 23: The Pack Meeting II

The silence stretched.

No one moved. The only sound was the soft hum of the ceiling lamps and the slow, steady tick of the old clock near the door.

Lancelot’s eyes remained on Natasha for a long, unreadable moment. The air between them was heavy, Alpha dominance pressing against whatever quiet magic pulsed beneath her skin.

Yet she did not flinch.

“If you were in your dorm,” Lancelot said at last, “you won’t mind swearing it before the council.”

Natasha lowered her gaze. “I swear it, Alpha.”

Her voice was smooth.

Too smooth.

Raymond leaned forward slightly, studying her face, her calm posture, the stillness of her breathing, the faint shimmer in her pupils that came and went so quickly it might have been imagined.

But his wolf wasn’t fooled.

Beneath that composure was something darker, an invisible thread of deceit.

Lancelot’s expression eased slightly. “Then that will be all.”

“Alpha…” Raymond started, but Lancelot raised a hand, silencing him.

“She has sworn,” his father said quietly. “And unless you have proof, we do not accuse one of our own on instinct alone.”

Raymond clenched his jaw. “Instinct keeps us alive.”

“Instinct also starts wars.”

The words were sharp, but there was no anger in them, only the weary tone of a leader who had seen what suspicion could do.

Raymond forced himself to breathe, his fingers curling against his knee. He wanted to argue, to tell his father that he knew what he’d seen, that there was something wrong about the way Natasha stood there, too composed, too certain.

But then she looked at him.

Just a glance. Soft. Innocent.

And yet he felt it, the faintest tug in his mind, like a thread pulling loose.

The memory of the fight earlier, the hooded figure, blurred at the edges for a heartbeat. Just a fraction of a second, but enough to shake him.

Then her eyes moved away, and the illusion broke.

Lancelot spoke again, turning to the council. “The matter is closed for now. We will strengthen patrols, reinforce the barrier until we have a replacement for the pack protector’s spell. Daron, you and the others will search the archives for any record of the witch’s bloodline. Find a trace, a name, anything.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Daron said quickly, relief flooding his voice.

“And the humans?” one of the Betas asked.

“They died of illness,” Lancelot said again, his tone absolute. “They will be buried quietly before dawn.”

The discussion moved on, low voices, agreements, plans but Raymond barely heard them. His attention stayed locked on Natasha.

She remained still, hands folded, expression unreadable.

If she sensed his scrutiny, she didn’t show it.

When the meeting finally ended, Lancelot dismissed the others with a wave of his hand. Chairs scraped back, footsteps echoed. The scent of wolves and tension filled the vast hall.

Natasha rose slowly, bowed again, and turned toward the doors.

As she passed Raymond, she glanced at him once more, that same almost-smile, soft as a whisper.

And then she was gone.

The door closed behind her with a dull thud, leaving only Raymond and his father.

***

The silence that followed was different now, heavier, sharper, thick with things unsaid.

Lancelot remained seated, staring at the map laid out before him, a map of the college’s grounds, marked with runes and borders drawn in silver ink.

“You shouldn’t have accused her publicly,” he said without looking up.

Raymond exhaled. “You know she’s not innocent.”

“I know but she’s useful,” Lancelot replied evenly. “And until we can prove otherwise, that’s what she remains.”

“She’s dangerous.”

“We all are.”

Raymond stood, restless energy rolling off him. “You saw the way she looked at me. She’s hiding something…”

Lancelot’s gaze snapped up, eyes flashing with quiet authority. “And what do you think happens when you strip away our calm, Raymond? You think this pack survives on suspicion and instinct alone? You think leadership means acting on every feeling that claws at you?”

Raymond didn’t answer.

Lancelot’s voice softened then, just slightly. “You are not wrong to question. But there is a time for doubt and a time for control. Learn to know the difference.”

He leaned back, studying his son, the tension in his shoulders, the storm in his eyes. “You’ve been restless lately.”

Raymond’s throat tightened. He didn’t respond.

His father’s gaze sharpened. “Your heat is close?”

A pause. Then, quietly: “Yes.”

Lancelot nodded slowly, as if expecting the answer. “You’re fighting it.”

“I can handle it.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Lancelot murmured. “But you should know that instincts sharpen in times like this. They draw you toward what you need most.” His voice lowered. “Sometimes that isn’t always what you want.”

Raymond looked away, jaw tense.

Lancelot rose then, walking toward the window where the moonlight filtered through heavy curtains. “There’s something else you should know,” he said quietly. “Something I didn’t tell the council.”

Raymond turned. “What is it?”

“The rogue infiltration wasn’t random. The magic on the borders didn’t just weaken, it was deliberately tampered with.”

Raymond’s eyes narrowed. “By who?”

“That’s what worries me,” Lancelot said. “Only a witch connected to the pack’s bloodline could have done it or someone who has access to powerful magic.”

Raymond’s thoughts went still. “But the witches died out generations ago.”

Lancelot’s lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “That’s what we believed.”

He turned fully now, his gaze locking with his son’s. “There was a prophecy, one the last pack protector spoke before her death. A human girl would come when the shield falls. A girl whose blood would either heal the pack… or destroy it.”

Raymond froze.

Lancelot continued, his voice quiet, measured. “The late protector said she would appear under false light. Hidden among the ordinary. Unaware of what she is until the moon itself calls for her.”

The room seemed to shrink around them.

Raymond swallowed. “You think… the girl in the prophecy is one of the humans here?”

Lancelot’s expression didn’t change. “I think the timing is too perfect to ignore. We would avoid destruction by all means. It's either the human girl heal the pack or she dies”

“We have to be aware of all that happens in the pack from now on. I will make sure of it” Raymond said without missing a beat.

Lancelot’s eyes softened slightly. “Her name is Alicia, isn’t it?”

Raymond stiffened. “What?”

“Your new roommate,” Lancelot said quietly. “You try to hide it, but a father notices things. You’re drawn to her, even when you fight it.”

Raymond’s pulse quickened. “She’s human.”

“And yet she is still your roommate.” He replied with a small smirk.

Raymond shook his head. “She’s… she’s too plain. Too unaware. She doesn’t even know our world exists.”

Lancelot’s expression didn’t change. “The plain ones,” he murmured, “are the ones the moon hides her power in.”

Raymond’s pulse jumped. “You can’t mean…”

“I’m never otherwise,” his father said quietly. “Watch her. Protect her if she’s the one meant to heal the pack.”

The words hit like a blow. Raymond didn’t reply. He just turned and left, the air in the hall too heavy to breathe.

Outside, the night was cold and sharp. The moon watched from above, silver light spilling across the courtyard. He moved fast, boots echoing, thoughts chasing themselves in circles, Natasha’s illusion, his father’s warning, Alicia’s name.

By the time he reached his dorm, the halls were silent. He pushed the door open.

Darkness.

Alicia’s bed was untouched.

She wasn’t back yet.

He hesitated, eyes sweeping the room, jaw tight. The moonlight through the curtains painted pale lines across the floor. He walked to his bed and sat down heavily, exhaustion finally pulling at him.

His mind wouldn’t stop. Natasha’s smile. His father’s prophecy. Alicia’s absence.

Somewhere outside, a wolf howled, low and too close.

He stared at the ceiling, that sound echoing through his chest.

Something was coming.

He could feel it.