Chapter 13: Lines in the Ash

The pack woke uneasy.

It wasn’t the kind of fear that sent wolves running or howling. It was subtler. A tension that lived under the skin. Conversations stopped when certain names were mentioned. Eyes followed Iria now—not openly, but often.

She felt it.

Attention is a kind of power.

And power always demands a response.

Iria crossed the lower grounds at dawn, cloak pulled tight against the morning cold. She wasn’t heading anywhere important. That was the point. She wanted to be seen moving freely, without permission, without escort.

It worked.

Two warriors stiffened as she passed. A beta glanced up from sharpening his blade and didn’t look away fast enough.

Good.

The pack was recalibrating.

At the training ring, raised voices echoed—argument, not practice. Iria slowed, then stopped at the edge.

Three warriors stood inside the circle. One of them, Jarek, shoved another hard enough to send him stumbling.

“You don’t give orders,” Jarek snapped. “Not anymore.”

The younger wolf straightened, jaw tight. “Someone has to. Patrols are thin. Borders are open.”

“And you think you get to decide that?”

“I think someone who actually fights should.”

Murmurs rose from the onlookers.

Iria stepped forward.

The sound of her boots on stone was soft, but it cut through the noise.

“That’s enough.”

Every head turned.

Jarek laughed. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It concerns the pack,” Iria replied calmly. “So it concerns me.”

Jarek’s eyes flicked over her, dismissive. “You’re not council. You’re not Alpha.”

“No,” she agreed. “But I’m also not wrong.”

The murmurs grew louder.

Jarek bristled. “Careful.”

“Or what?” Iria asked, voice steady. “You’ll prove you can only lead with your fists?”

That stung.

The younger warrior looked at her, surprised. Grateful.

“Borders are weak,” Iria continued. “Patrols are arguing instead of coordinating. You’re fighting each other while the rest of the world watches.”

She turned her gaze deliberately to the crowd. “If you’re waiting for permission to protect your home, you’ve already lost it.”

Silence followed.

Then someone nodded.

Another followed.

Jarek scoffed, but it sounded forced. “You think speaking pretty truths makes you dangerous?”

Iria met his stare. “No. Acting on them does.”

She turned away.

And this time, no one laughed.

Kael watched from the shadows of the upper terrace.

He hadn’t meant to.

He’d been tracking unrest, listening where he wasn’t expected. But when Iria entered the ring, the bond pulled his attention hard enough to make him still.

She didn’t dominate the space.

She aligned it.

That was worse.

“Interesting,” said a voice beside him.

Kael didn’t turn. “You’re impressed too easily.”

Lorien smiled faintly. “She’s rallying sentiment.”

“She’s preventing fractures.”

“For now.”

Kael’s gaze stayed fixed on the dispersing crowd. “For as long as they believe they’re choosing her.”

“And when they don’t?”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “Then she becomes a threat.”

Lorien studied him. “To the council?”

Kael didn’t answer.

By midday, rumors had teeth.

Iria heard them as she passed through corridors and courtyards.

She challenged a warrior.

She spoke like an Alpha.

She’s closer to him than we thought.

She ignored most of it—until Mara caught her arm near the healer’s wing.

“You need to be careful,” Mara whispered. “They’re watching you now.”

Iria nodded. “I know.”

“This isn’t curiosity anymore.”

“I know.”

Mara hesitated. “Kael knows too.”

That made Iria pause.

“Has he said anything?” she asked.

“No,” Mara replied. “Which is worse.”

The council convened again that evening.

This time, Iria was invited.

The difference was subtle—an aide appearing at her door, a polite tone—but the message was clear.

You’re no longer invisible.

She entered the chamber with her head high.

Kael stood at the far end, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He didn’t look at her when she took her seat—but she felt the bond hum, low and alert.

Lorien spoke first. “We’ve received reports of unrest.”

Unrest.

What a clean word for fear.

“People are disagreeing,” Iria said evenly. “That happens when leadership is unclear.”

“This isn’t your concern,” another councilor snapped.

Kael’s gaze flicked toward them then. Sharp.

“It became her concern when you let the pack fracture,” he said.

The room went still.

Iria didn’t look at him. She didn’t need to.

“You’re undermining authority,” Eldric said carefully. “Both of you.”

“Authority that can’t withstand questions isn’t authority,” Iria replied. “It’s control.”

Lorien exhaled slowly. “What exactly do you want?”

Iria leaned forward.

“I want transparency,” she said. “About Kael’s disappearance. About the decisions made in his absence. About who benefits from the pack staying divided.”

A dangerous ask.

Kael finally looked at her.

Not warning.

Not approval.

Recognition.

“That’s not a small demand,” Eldric said.

“It’s a necessary one,” Iria replied. “Because silence is no longer holding.”

The council exchanged glances.

Kael broke it. “You’ll answer her.”

Lorien stiffened. “You can’t—”

“I can,” Kael cut in. “Or I’ll answer for you. And you won’t like my version.”

Silence followed.

For the first time since his return, Kael wasn’t reacting.

He was choosing.Later that night, Iria stood alone on the eastern wall.

Footsteps approached.

She didn’t turn.

“You escalated things,” Kael said.

“Yes.”

“That was deliberate.”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“You don’t know how dangerous this makes you.”

She finally faced him. “You don’t know how small you made me by deciding everything alone.”

That landed.

The bond flared—not hot, not tender—but taut.

“You’re forcing my hand,” Kael said quietly.

“No,” Iria replied. “I’m forcing the truth.”

He studied her for a long moment. “If I tell you everything, you won’t be able to walk away.”

“I stopped walking away when you disappeared.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid.

Kael spoke at last. “Then understand this—once you step fully into this, there’s no protection without consequence.”

Iria met his gaze, unwavering. “Then stop trying to protect me from becoming who I already am.”

Something in Kael shifted.

Not desire.

Not anger.

Respect.

And that, Iria knew, would change everything.