Chapter 41: Death by the Pack

The morning air had teeth. It sank into skin like a warning, cold and sharp, coiling tight in every breath. Nuri stood at the top of the packhouse steps, the wind tugging at her hair, unmoved by it. Below, wolves gathered—clustered, quiet, but restless. No one spoke. No one asked why they’d been summoned.

They didn’t need to. They could feel it.

The energy in the courtyard was thick and taut, an electric hum that pressed in against every ribcage. Something was coming. The kind of something that never ended gently.

Kalmin stood beside her. Not touching. Not towering. Just there—shoulders squared, spine straight, jaw locked tight. For once, the Alpha made no move to dominate the space.

Because today wasn’t his. But it had to start with him.

Kalmin stepped forward, and the pack felt it immediately—that shift in weight, that instinctive pull toward the one wolf whose word had once meant law and death in the same breath. Backs straightened. Eyes dropped. Tension coiled tighter.

They remembered what it meant to challenge him. And what it cost.

He stood like a storm in waiting, eyes sweeping the crowd, and when he spoke, his voice cracked through the silence like thunder.

“You know who I am.”

The courtyard froze. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.

“I earned my place as your Alpha not through kindness. Not through words. I bled for it. Fought for it. Tore out throats to keep it. And for years, you followed me because you feared what would happen if you didn’t.”

A pause. Deliberate. Dangerous.

“That fear is the legacy I let you believe in. But fear without honor is just decay. And I let that decay spread through the bones of this pack. I protected the wrong wolf. I silenced the wrong truth.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd—uncertain, shifting, like wolves bracing for a blow.

Kalmin’s voice snapped like a whip. “Nuri.”

All eyes turned.

“She is not an outsider. Not a visitor. Not a challenge to test.”

He moved forward, slowly, gaze like fire sweeping the courtyard. “She is mine. Chosen. Bound. The gods themselves tied her soul to mine, and I stand here as your Alpha to make one thing clear—”

His voice dropped, lethal and cold.

“She is not to be questioned. She is not to be slighted. She is one of us now. Not tolerated. Not hidden. Ours.”

Every syllable hit like a hammer. No one dared speak.

“She will be heard. She will be respected. If I hear so much as a whisper against her name, I will treat it the same way I treat treason. And you all know what I do to traitors.”

A few wolves looked away. Others held their breath.

Kalmin turned, meeting her gaze. He didn’t offer his hand. He didn’t need to.

Nuri stepped forward—silent, calm, anchored. And with every step down the stairs, the silence deepened. Her presence didn’t roar. It didn’t have to. It radiated—like heat rising before a wildfire.

She stopped at the base of the steps and let the quiet stretch.

“I want to tell you a story,” she said, voice clear, steady, and cold enough to draw blood. “It starts with a boy. An omega. Loud. Brilliant. Too curious for his own good. He didn’t understand fear the way some of you do. He thought he could earn a place here—belonging. Acceptance. He thought if he smiled wide enough, worked hard enough, you might see him.”

Her eyes cut toward Ellery.

He stood near the edge of the crowd, flanked by enforcers. His posture was casual, too casual—but his jaw was clenched, and his smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You remember him,” Nuri said. “Don’t you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

“Some of you did see him. And what you saw was prey.”

A fresh ripple of discomfort rolled through the courtyard. No one looked directly at her now.

“You lied to him. Sent him into the woods alone, told him someone needed help. And then you told the others… he was fair game. That his death would be a favor.”

She took a step toward Ellery. He didn’t move. But the tension in him sharpened, just a little.

“You remember that, don’t you?” she asked again, quieter now. “You crafted it. Not just his death. The cruelty of it.”

Kalmin stepped forward beside her, voice low but heavy with purpose. “I let her believe it was a tragedy. An accident. I thought I was preserving peace by keeping the truth buried. But peace built on a lie is nothing but a tomb. And today, we bury that lie.”

Ellery gave a short, bitter laugh. “What, you think dragging me out in front of the pack makes you righteous? You’re just trying to win her back.”

“No,” Kalmin said. “I’m dragging you into the light because the only thing I have left to stand on is the truth. And I won’t share my mate’s future with the stench of your lies still clinging to my pack.”

Nuri kept walking until she stood a breath away from Ellery. The enforcers didn’t stop her.

“You used Peter’s death to build your power,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “You twisted loyalty into fear. You made blood a currency and dared to call it leadership.”

She took another step, letting her presence crowd into his space.

“And you didn’t just lie to Peter. You lied to the betas. Told them what you did was Kalmin’s will. That your hunt was an order passed down by the Alpha.”

Ellery sneered. “You’re just a human girl playing wolf.”

“No,” Nuri said, eyes like twin storms. “I’m the one holding the leash now.”

A murmur rose from the crowd—this time louder. Angrier.

“That’s the part you never expected to matter, isn’t it?” she continued. “You thought your bloodline—your place in the founding five—made you untouchable. You thought Kalmin would cover your mess because you shared the right name.”

Her voice sharpened.

“You were wrong.”

Kalmin stepped forward again, his voice colder than ice.

“I took the fall because I thought your death would fracture the pack. I thought protecting the bloodline meant protecting the pack. But you used my name to commit murder. You lied to my wolves and dragged my leadership through the filth to satisfy your ego.”

His eyes locked on Ellery’s.

“That’s not just betrayal.”

“It’s treason.”

A beat of silence followed Kalmin’s final words.

Then the first snarl cracked through the air—low, guttural, and laced with fury.

It came from Elder Maric, silver-haired and scarred from his own bloody reign. His eyes blazed, teeth bared as he stepped forward with the rage of a wolf whose legacy had been dragged through mud.

“You lied to the betas?” Maric’s voice rang out like a battle horn. “You used his name to justify a hunt on an omega? You desecrated the chain of command and thought your bloodline would shield you?”

More elders stepped forward, their fury palpable—growls and shouted curses rising in waves. These were former Alphas, wolves who had lived and ruled by the old laws. Honor. Hierarchy. The weight of an Alpha’s word was sacred—and Ellery had spat on it.

“You dishonor all of us,” another elder spat. “You make a mockery of the oath we swore to uphold.”

“You should’ve died the moment Kalmin found out,” growled Elder Sera, her voice like gravel. “The only reason your throat isn’t already ripped out is because our Alpha showed mercy you didn’t earn.”

Ellery didn’t speak—but his face had gone pale. No smirk now. No sneer.

From the side, several betas stepped forward, eyes wide with dawning horror. One of them—Tarek—shook his head, fists clenched at his sides.

“You said it was his order,” Tarek said, voice hoarse with betrayal. “You said the Alpha approved the trial. That Peter had already been marked.”

More murmurs, sharper now—outrage, disgust, disbelief.

“We thought we were protecting the pack,” another beta said.

“You weren’t,” Nuri said flatly, turning to face them. “You were protecting him.”

The tension exploded into sound—growls, shouts, voices overlapping in chaos. The pack had followed blindly, trusting the chain of command. Ellery had turned that trust into a weapon.

Kalmin raised a hand—and the silence snapped back into place like a slammed door.

“Enough.”

His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

“You were deceived,” he said, gaze sweeping over the betas. “And for that, I take responsibility. I let this lie fester too long. But Ellery—”

He turned back to the disgraced wolf, voice dropping into a growl that rumbled through the bones of every wolf present.

“You don’t get to hide behind my name anymore,” Kalmin growled.

The courtyard fell still—again—but this time it was different.

Not a silence of fear.

A silence of expectation.

Nuri looked at Ellery like she was reading the last line of a confession she’d already memorized.

“You lied. You hunted. You desecrated the pack bond. You used the Alpha’s name to sanction murder and called it leadership. There’s only one sentence for that.”

She didn’t have to raise her voice.

“Death by the pack.”

The words hung in the air like thunder waiting for lightning.

Ellery froze. And for the first time—truly—he looked afraid.

“No,” he said, stepping back. “You can’t—”

“You don’t have a voice here,” Kalmin cut in, voice like steel. “You forfeited the right to yours when you used mine.”

One of the elders stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll begin.”

“No.” Nuri turned to face the crowd, every inch of her vibrating with authority.

“It starts with me.”

Kalmin didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. He knew better than to interfere now.

She stepped toward Ellery slowly, gaze fixed, breath steady.

“You stole my friend’s life,” she said. “You tried to poison my mate’s name. And now I’ll mark you so the gods know who you are when you get there.”

She shifted—not fully, just enough that claws emerged, slicing through skin with a wet crack. Her claws gleamed—wet, sharp, and soaked in bone-deep judgment.

Ellery tried to run.

Two enforcers grabbed him by the arms and shoved him to his knees.

“Nuri,” Kalmin said, soft but firm. “It has to be public. It has to be complete.”

She nodded once—and then drove her claws across Ellery’s face.

He screamed.

And the pack moved.

The descendants were next—cold, methodical, stripping away his legacy one bite at a time.

Then the elders, whose snarls carried centuries of fury and the weight of forgotten oaths.

Then the betas, whose mouths still tasted of shame and betrayal.

And by the time it was done, Ellery wasn’t a wolf anymore.

He was a message.

Nuri stood over what remained of him, breath steady, hands bloody, eyes like storms.

“That’s what justice looks like,” she said.

No one disagreed.