CHAPTER 9: The exit that isn't loud

Iria packed before sunrise.

Not because she was afraid of being caught unprepared—but because delay invited interference.

Her room looked unchanged when she finished. Bed neatly made. Pack returned to its corner. Window shuttered against the pale light creeping over the horizon. Nothing about the space suggested urgency.

That, too, was deliberate.

She had learned long ago that leaving quietly unsettled people far more than defiance ever could.

Outside her door, footsteps paused.

She didn’t reach for the knife strapped beneath her coat. Whoever it was had no intention of attacking.

A knock followed—soft, hesitant.

“Iria.”

Rhun’s voice.

She opened the door.

He looked older in the grey light, lines etched deeper around his eyes. Guilt sat on his shoulders like something he’d agreed to carry without complaint.

“You should go now,” he said.

“I know.”

“They’ll escort you to the border,” he continued. “Officially. To keep appearances intact.”

She studied him. “Unofficially?”

Rhun hesitated. “Darian has been granted temporary authority over patrols.”

That answered the question.

“They won’t stop at the border,” she said.

“No,” Rhun admitted. “They’ll make an example.”

Iria nodded once. “Thank you for telling me.”

Rhun’s jaw tightened. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’ve been listening,” she said. “That’s the difference between me and them.”

Rhun stepped aside. “There’s a back path through the eastern ravine. Old. Unmonitored.”

“Kael knows,” she said.

Rhun’s eyes flicked away.

“He knows,” he repeated.

That was confirmation enough.

Kael stood in the tower again, but this time the height offered no clarity.

The pack moved below him like a living organism adapting to new command. Patrols shifted. Guards doubled. Names he trusted moved cautiously, loyalties recalibrating in real time.

Darian worked fast.

Kael felt the weight inside him churn—not expanding, not receding. Circling. Like something searching for a way out.

He hadn’t slept.

Didn’t intend to.

The door opened without announcement.

Maera entered.

“You’re letting her leave,” she said.

Kael didn’t turn. “You forced her out.”

Maera came to stand beside him, gaze sweeping the horizon. “I spared her life.”

“You signed its delay.”

Maera’s lips pressed thin. “You’re still thinking like an Alpha.”

Kael laughed under his breath. “What else would I think like?”

Maera’s voice softened—not with kindness, but certainty. “Like a relic.”

He turned then, eyes sharp. “Say what you came to say.”

Maera met his gaze evenly. “The pack needs continuity. Darian will stabilize things.”

Kael felt something inside him snap—not violently, but cleanly.

“He’ll bleed them dry,” Kael said.

“Yes,” Maera replied. “But he’ll do it loudly. They’ll feel led.”

Kael stared at her.

“That’s your solution,” he said slowly. “Noise.”

Maera inclined her head. “People trust what they can hear.”

Kael turned away.

“When she’s gone,” Maera added, “the weight will settle back into you. The myth will reassert itself.”

Kael closed his eyes.

“You don’t understand,” he said quietly.

Maera frowned. “Explain.”

“She doesn’t take the weight,” Kael said. “She stops it from lying.”

Maera’s expression hardened. “Then she is more dangerous than we thought.”

She moved toward the door.

“When this is over,” she said, “we will expect your cooperation.”

Kael didn’t answer.

He was already gone somewhere they couldn’t follow.

Iria took the eastern ravine at a steady pace.

The path was narrow, barely visible beneath overgrowth and stone. It curved sharply downward, shielded from the village by jagged rock and old trees twisted into unnatural shapes by time.

She felt watched.

Not hunted.

Not yet.

She stopped halfway down.

The feeling intensified.

Then—

“Don’t turn around.”

Kael’s voice.

Her breath caught—but only for a second.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said.

“I stopped being supposed to do things yesterday.”

She turned.

He stood a few paces behind her, coat gone, sleeves rolled, eyes darker than she’d ever seen them.

“You’re leaving,” he said.

“Yes.”

“They won’t let you.”

“I know.”

He stepped closer.

The weight stirred violently inside him, reacting to proximity. He fought it back with practiced control, jaw clenched.

“You don’t belong in this system,” he said. “That’s why it’s rejecting you.”

“That’s not why,” Iria replied.

“Then why?”

“Because systems that survive by consumption can’t tolerate mirrors.”

The words landed hard.

Kael exhaled slowly. “Come with me.”

She stilled. “Where?”

“Out,” he said simply. “Before this finishes turning into something worse.”

Iria searched his face. “You’d abandon the pack.”

“No,” he said. “I’d refuse to die for it.”

The honesty in that shook something loose between them.

“You disappearing,” she said, “won’t fix what they built.”

“I know.”

“Then why do it?”

Kael’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because staying finishes me.”

Silence stretched.

Below them, the ravine opened toward the wilds—uncharted land, unclaimed by pack law.

Freedom.

And consequence.

Iria shook her head. “If you leave now, they’ll rewrite you as a coward.”

Kael smiled faintly. “They already are.”

She took a step back. “You can’t come with me.”

The words hit harder than any decree.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

“Because if I’m the reason you disappear,” she said, “they win.”

The weight inside him surged, furious, desperate.

“You’re already paying for me,” she continued. “Don’t erase yourself too.”

Kael stepped closer, voice low. “You don’t understand what it costs to stay.”

“I do,” she said. “I just refuse to be your exit.”

They stood there, suspended between two endings.

Finally, Kael nodded once.

Decision settling like stone.

“Then go,” he said. “Now.”

Iria held his gaze for a long moment.

“This isn’t over,” she said.

“No,” Kael agreed. “It’s just stopped pretending.”

She turned and walked down the ravine without looking back.

Kael remained where he was long after she disappeared from sight.

When he finally moved, it wasn’t toward the keep.

It was deeper into the territory.

Toward the heart of the lie.

By the time the pack realized Iria Vale had left by another route—

The Blue Alpha had already begun to disappear.