Chapter 12: Consequences

The pack knelt.

Not all at once. Not gracefully.

But they knelt.

One by one, wolves lowered themselves as Kael crossed the courtyard. Some did it out of instinct, others out of fear, and a few because they remembered what it meant when he stood this close and silent.

Iria stayed standing.

She felt the pull of the bond like a taut wire wrapped around her ribs, vibrating with every step he took. It wasn’t longing. It wasn’t comfort.

It was recognition.

Kael stopped at the center of the courtyard, exactly where the Alpha circle had been carved into stone generations ago. He didn’t step inside it.

That mattered.

The council arrived moments later, robes too neat, expressions too prepared.

“Alpha,” Eldric said, bowing low. “Your return was… unexpected.”

Kael’s gaze slid over him, cold and unreadable. “You planned for my absence. Not my return.”

A ripple moved through the crowd.

Eldric straightened. “We did what was necessary to maintain order.”

“Order,” Kael repeated softly.

He finally stepped into the circle.

The ground seemed to settle beneath his boots.

“You stripped the borders,” he continued. “Reduced patrols. Opened trade with packs that once feared us. You ruled by caution instead of strength.”

One councilor bristled. “You left us no choice.”

Kael turned then, sharply. “I didn’t leave.”

Silence crashed down.

Iria’s breath caught.

“I was removed,” Kael said. “And while I was gone, you wore my authority like borrowed skin.”

Lorien stepped forward. “Choose your words carefully.”

Kael smiled.

It was brief. Lethal.

“You forget,” he said, “I don’t need the council’s permission to speak truth.”

The air thickened. Wolves shifted uneasily. Somewhere behind Iria, someone swallowed audibly.

“You will convene tonight,” Kael said. “All of you. Every decision made in my absence will be reviewed.”

“And if we refuse?” Lorien asked.

Kael’s eyes flicked to him. “Then you confirm what I already know.”

Lorien said nothing.

The meeting was called for dusk.

Until then, the pack existed in a state of suspended breath.

Iria retreated to the upper walkways, needing distance. Needing space to think. Her mind replayed Kael’s words again and again.

I didn’t leave.

So they lied.

The council. The elders. Everyone who had looked her in the eye and told her his disappearance was choice.

Her hands curled into fists.

“You’re avoiding him.”

The voice startled her.

She turned to see Mara—one of the healers, older, sharp-eyed, and too observant for her own good.

“I’m thinking,” Iria replied.

Mara studied her. “Careful. Thinking gets dangerous around here.”

Iria let out a humorless breath. “It already is.”

Mara hesitated, then said quietly, “He asked about you.”

That stopped her.

“When?”

“Before the council arrived. He didn’t ask where you were.” Mara’s gaze softened. “He asked if you’d changed.”

Iria’s chest tightened in a way she refused to examine.

“What did you say?”

“That you’re not the same girl he left behind.”

Iria nodded slowly. “Good.”

Because that girl would have waited.

She wouldn’t.

Kael stood alone in the Alpha’s quarters, hands braced against the stone table.

The room smelled wrong.

Too clean. Too empty.

His gaze fell to the far wall where the pack crest once hung. It was gone.

They’d dismantled him piece by piece while pretending to honor his name.

A knock sounded.

“Enter.”

Eldric stepped inside, posture stiff. “You’re destabilizing the pack.”

Kael turned. “You did that when you decided I was expendable.”

Eldric’s voice lowered. “She’s asking questions.”

Kael’s eyes sharpened. “Who?”

“You know who.”

Kael said nothing, but the bond flared faintly, unmistakably.

“She’s not protected,” Eldric continued. “Not without you choosing a side.”

Kael straightened slowly. “She was never meant to be protected by me.”

“That’s not what the pack believes.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “The pack believes what it’s told.”

Eldric studied him. “Then tell them something else. Claim her. End the speculation.”

The suggestion hung between them, heavy and dangerous.

“No,” Kael said flatly.

Eldric frowned. “You’re risking—”

“I know exactly what I’m risking,” Kael snapped. “And I won’t use her as a shield for your mistakes.”

Eldric left without another word.

Kael exhaled sharply.

Claiming her would be easy.

Protecting her without doing so would not.

Iria stood at the edge of the council chamber that night, watching the doors close behind the last member.

She wasn’t invited.

She didn’t leave.

When the argument inside rose—voices sharp, accusations cutting—she listened.

And she learned.

Names. Alliances. Fear.

This wasn’t governance.

It was survival dressed as authority.

The doors opened suddenly.

Kael stepped out.

They froze, staring at each other in the torchlight.

“You’re listening,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Neither should you have disappeared,” she replied.

The words landed harder than she expected.

Kael’s expression didn’t change—but something in his eyes did. Something old. Something tired.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said.

“Then stop deciding for me,” Iria said quietly. “Because whatever you left behind is breaking.”

Silence stretched.

Then Kael stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“From this moment on,” he said, “nothing you do will go unnoticed.”

Iria met his gaze, unflinching. “Good.”

Because for the first time since he returned, she wasn’t reacting to his power.

She was stepping into her own.

And Kael realized, with a cold clarity that unsettled him:

The consequences of his return weren’t political.

They were personal.