Chapter 14: Fracture Points

Truth never arrives whole.

It leaks.

By morning, the pack felt it.

Whispers moved faster than wolves—slipping through kitchens, armories, patrol routes. Names were spoken in half-sentences. Questions lingered unanswered on purpose.

Removed.

Voted.

Guarded secrets.

Iria heard fragments as she passed, and she didn’t stop them.

She didn’t correct anyone either.

That was the difference.

At the healer’s wing, Mara pressed a cloth into a shallow cut on Iria’s palm. “You should’ve let it close on its own.”

“I needed the sting,” Iria replied.

Mara studied her. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yes.”

“You’re pushing until something breaks.”

Iria met her gaze. “Something already did. I’m just making it visible.”

Mara hesitated, then lowered her voice. “The elders are nervous. Not all of them were involved.”

“Enough were.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It is when silence protects them,” Iria said.

Mara sighed. “Kael knows what you’re doing.”

“Good.”

The council chamber doors were closed again by midday.

Inside, voices rose and fell—argument sharpened by fear.

Lorien slammed his palm against the table. “She’s destabilizing us.”

“She’s exposing us,” Eldric countered quietly.

“By speaking to wolves who don’t understand politics!”

Eldric’s gaze hardened. “They understand betrayal.”

Silence followed.

“She knows,” another councilor said. “Not everything—but enough.”

Lorien turned to Kael. “You need to stop her.”

Kael leaned back in his chair, expression cold. “Stop her from what?”

“From asking questions that weaken authority.”

Kael tilted his head. “Authority weakened by truth was already hollow.”

“You’re choosing her over the pack,” Lorien snapped.

Kael stood.

The room stiffened.

“I’m choosing the pack,” he said evenly. “That’s the difference.”

Lorien laughed sharply. “Then claim her. End this ambiguity.”

Kael’s eyes darkened. “You keep reaching for that solution.”

“Because it works.”

“No,” Kael said. “Because it’s convenient for you.”

He stepped closer. “You want her bound to me so her voice becomes mine. So when she speaks, you can call it Alpha influence instead of dissent.”

No one spoke.

Kael straightened. “That won’t happen.”

Iria learned the truth not from Kael—but from a mistake.

A young scribe, pale and shaking, cornered her near the archives. “I—I thought you should know.”

She didn’t interrupt.

“There’s a record,” the girl whispered. “From the night Kael disappeared. A closed session. Emergency authority vote.”

Iria’s chest tightened. “Who called it?”

The scribe swallowed. “Lorien. And two elders who are… no longer alive.”

Iria nodded slowly. “And the vote?”

The girl hesitated. “Split.”

Iria’s voice was calm. “Then how was the decision made?”

The scribe’s hands trembled. “They invoked preservation law. Claimed Kael was a destabilizing risk.”

Iria closed her eyes briefly.

Removed.

Not exiled.

Contained.

“Where is the record?” she asked.

The scribe shook her head. “It’s gone. Or hidden.”

Iria opened her eyes. “Thank you.”

As the girl fled, Iria exhaled sharply.

They hadn’t just lied.

They’d rewritten history.

Kael found her on the eastern wall again.

“You found something,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You weren’t meant to.”

“No,” Iria replied. “I was meant to forget.”

Silence stretched.

“They voted,” she continued. “Called you unstable. Used preservation law.”

Kael didn’t react.

That scared her more than anger would have.

“You knew,” she said softly.

“I suspected.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “Because once you knew, you’d become a target.”

“I already am.”

He stepped closer. “Not like this.”

“Then tell me where they sent you,” Iria demanded. “Because no one removes an Alpha without a cage.”

The bond flared—sharp, warning.

Kael looked away.

That was answer enough.

“You survived it,” she said.

“Barely.”

“And you still came back.”

“For the pack.”

Iria searched his face. “And for me?”

Kael met her gaze at last. “I came back because if I didn’t, they’d do it again. To someone else.”

Not a lie.

Not the whole truth either.

That night, the fracture became visible.

Two elders resigned quietly.

A patrol refused an order from a council-appointed beta.

And someone painted a symbol on the stone near the Alpha circle—old, defiant, unmistakable.

The mark of contested rule.

Iria stood before it at dawn.

Kael joined her.

“This will turn violent,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You could step back.”

She didn’t look at him. “So could you.”

Kael’s voice lowered. “If I fall again, they won’t hesitate.”

“Then don’t fall,” Iria replied.

He studied her, something fierce and unreadable passing through his eyes.

The pack wasn’t choosing sides yet.

But it was waking up.

And once awake, it would never sleep the same way again.