CHAPTER 4

A week had passed with Scar being left in the dungeon without a decision made about killing or keeping her . With the awareness of whose child she was Damon have been taken aback with his decision. The approval of his dying father mattered so much to him . The wolves believed that whoever sat on the throne ruled their kind, but Damon had sat on this throne for three years, and it was his opinion that the throne ruled him.

At least, it did right now, as his ass was sore and his head was worse off for the incessant bickering coming from the wolves settled around the fire below the dais. The discomfort made him irritable and less inclined to listen to the arguing voices. They shouted at one another so fitfully that they didn't notice how Damon nursed his piercing headache instead of listening to their crap.

"We should just kill her and be done with it," one wolf said, his voice high and shrill. This wolf was Shadow, one of Damon's chief advisors. He liked to jump to violence often enough that he was thankful he hadn't made him a general. "There can't be no rebellion if there ain't nothing to rebel against!"

"No, we need her," another Wolf , Snarl, countered. "She's essential to the plan. The Scanthin will rebel whether we kill her or not ."

"You're contradicting yourself! If they're gonna rebel anyway, what's she essential for, eh?"

The other wolves assembled around the fire in the center of the narrow tree hall murmured their agreement with Shadow , although he was usually too gruff and bitey to win them over. Once, someone he didn't like tried to argue with him, and she bit their fingers off, creating a bloody mess of the throne room. Hence the name he'd garnered for himself.

The throne room above ground had been made in one of the many hollowed-out trees that existed in the wolves's tree city, or rather, tree fortress. The small space was made to accommodate a dozen goblins, but it felt too tight and confined with only four besides Damon, who sat atop the throne in a special alcove made for his father's former reign. Maybe his severe discomfort, growing by the minute, just spoke to how done he was with this conversation. It was a pointless, petty argument that Damon had long decided the answer to long ago. They were only acting so small-minded because, for some reason, they believed he could be swayed.

Snarl snarled, a wicked, raspy sound that made everyone fall silent. "Yer all acting like damn monkeys, not wolves ! Think with your brains ye damn noodles!" He leaned closer to the fire, making eye contact with everyone except for Damon before continuing. "There's gonna be rebellion. That's unavoidable. But by aligning with this witch, we'll be stronger. We can stop them before they strike."

"I don't see why that plan needs a witch bitch at all," Shadow sniffed. "Damon would make a better alliance with one of the other wolves clans. That'd show those rebellious traitors and make 'em think twice."

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to quell the throbbing pain behind his eyes. As their leader, it was his job to mediate these disputes—but at this rate, he was going to lose his temper and start flinging them all into next week.

"They'll think twice if they get their throats ripped out by this witch."

"But then we'd be inviting the witches to kill more of our kind!" Shadow whined. "Haven't we suffered enough? Show any weakness to those damn demons and they'll sniff out the blood and finish what we started. If Alpha Damon marries one of their bitches, and he lets them go hunting our kin, traitors or not, the witches'll start thinking they have power here. We can't let that happen!"

There was a murmur of assent from the wolves gathered around the fire, and a dangerous undertone had arisen in the conversation. Damon knew he had to speak up, because creating an alliance with the other wolves and wiping out all the witches had been his plan, but now they have the witch of Scanthin whom they we're too scared to deal with considering the consequences , but his headache was putting him in a foul mood, and when he was in a foul mood, everyone and the mountains beyond always paid for his wrath.

"Wolves die either way," Snarl grumbled. "Unless we can stop 'em without a fight at all, but things are escalating. There was a bombing in the Undertunnels last week, Sire. Not the first."

"It's not natural! Wolves shouldn't mate with witches , it is forbidden !"

"Shadow , Snarl," Damon said, his voice carrying easily throughout the room. "I understand that you are both passionate about this issue. But I must ask you to remember that we are all on the same side here."

The two wolves still glared at each other with barely contained hostility.

"Alpha Damon, what do you think?" Snarl asked, finally looking up at him. All the other wolves followed suit, their eyes expectant. "You can't keep the witch . You swore an oath! That'll look just as bad for us if you break it!"

Damon sighed. "I think," he said slowly, enunciating each word as though they were idiots, "that we need to find a middle ground."

"A middle ground?" shadow screeched. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Damon said through gritted teeth, slamming his fist down on the arm of his throne. The bark and leaves making up the armrest rattled, and the goblins fell silent immediately, their large eyes fixed on him in fear. "So long as the Scanthin clan follow through with their end of the agreement and agree to let peace reign ,and put aside the plan to unite with the Mcshane pack and usher in a war against us . That is final. If you disagree, then you can leave my court."

The wolves all fell silent, but he could feel their resentment simmering just below the surface. This was supposed to be his court, filled with his supporters, but here he was faced with the reality that his choices, as well-intended as they were, left him on thin ice with his wolves brethren. The wolves in this room trusted and relied on him, and though they might not agree with him, they'd all proven themselves loyal.

But if he failed them, if he showed weakness, it wouldn't be long before they started plotting against him. He needed to find a way to cement Scar's place in their society ... but how?

The only way seemed to be by purging her of her powers and using her to quell the rebellion as planned. Show that they could truly be peaceful after all. But that did nothing for them in the short term to deal with the dissent.

This wasn't how his reign was supposed to happen.

He kneaded the spikes of pain shooting through his temples, and Damon's eyebrows furrowed as he took another swig of the wolf liquor—a concoction so strong it could strip paint—and tried to make sense of the gibberish coming out of the wolf's mouth.

"What was that?" Damon said, looking up, now, to focus on the face of a wolf who had been silent until now.

His brother , Stanley ,

"I said," Stanley repeated, louder this time, "that for this to truly be a middle ground, then it must also mean that should the Scanthin fail to hold to their end of the bargain, then you will agree to launch the massacre and kill their witch ."

Damon stared at his brother , unable to believe what he was hearing with his own two ears. That hadn't been the compromise Damon was thinking, not at all.

"Or do you mean to tell us that your past love would mean you would hesitate to act on your oath if it meant killing the witches ?" Stanley pressed. "Do you hold sentiment for them after all, sire?"

It was a trick question. A trap. Count on Stanley to shove Damon into a corner and test him when Damon had a migraine powerful enough to split boulders. Usually Damon appreciated his brother's oppositional thinking because it provided Damon opportunities to think outside the box and recognize the flaws in his plans. And then use that knowledge, in turn, to make his plans flawless.

He and Stanley were a good team.

But right now, he was just pissing Damon off.

"No," Damon snapped. "The witches mean nothing to me. My lover might have been a witch, but I was raised by wolves. You are my family, not them. I merely aim to use my heritage to our advantage, for what a mighty advantage it could be for us wolves . But if the Scathin prove difficult ... if they make any move to betray us ... we will be swift. We will be merciless. That is the wolves way."

"That is the wolves way," Stanley echoed. He wore a satisfied smile, as though Damon had passed his test, but there was still a dangerous glint in his eyes. "What are your orders for the meantime, then, Alpha Damon ?"

"Squash the rebellion no matter the cost," Damon commanded. He leaned forward, gripping both of the armrests of his throne as he looked over the faces of the wolves staring up at him with wide eyes. "And be prepared to act, no matter which way the wind blows."