All Chapters of SILVER IN THE SHADOWS: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

TRIXIEEight weeks had passed. The pups had grown strong in that time. Their tiny cries had become sharper, their little hands quick to reach for warmth, their eyes beginning to open wide to the world. Each day, I had watched them change, and each day my heart had stretched a little more, as if it had no limits. But we had stayed hidden, close within the walls of the keep. Only Lana and Droco had been allowed near, their visits quiet and careful. The rest of the pack had waited with patience, their curiosity burning but held back by respect.Now the time had come. The morning was bright, the sun spilling like gold across the courtyard. The air was fresh, carrying the smell of pine and earth. Ryker stood beside me, tall and steady, though I could feel the tension in him — a mix of pride and protectiveness.The pack had gathered, filling the open space. Men, women, and children, their faces lifted toward us, their eyes shining with expectation. Some clutched flowers, others carried small

TRIXIEAfter the pups had settled down, I asked Lana to watch them for a short while. Then I turned to Trisha.“Come,” I said. “We should talk.”She followed me into one of the smaller chambers, the heavy door closing behind us. The air inside was cool. Only the faint smell of pine resin from the walls filled the space.Trisha leaned against the table, arms folded, her eyes sharp as always. “You kept it from me,” she said without hesitation. “The pregnancy. The truth.”I met her gaze, steady. “Yes. I did.”Her brow lifted, but I saw no anger, only something like curiosity. “Why?”“Because it was mine to carry,” I answered simply. “Mine to protect. The war, the danger, even the doubts in my own heart—none of that left room for sharing. And you… you have not always been safe ground for me.”For a long moment she was silent. Then she nodded slowly, almost to herself. “Fair. I suppose I don’t deserve to be trusted with something like that. You don’t owe me explanations, Trixie. Not anymor

The morning was bright, the air sharp with the smell of pine. Trixie walked across the courtyard with Afina in her arms. Ryker carried little Ryker on his shoulder, while Marielle ran her small hands along the edge of her mother’s cloak, fussing until she was lifted too. Several pack members paused to greet them, offering smiles and nods of respect. Trixie answered kindly, though her strength was still returning.Mira stood by the training yard, her arms crossed as she watched. She had meant only to whisper, but her voice carried louder than she intended.“Strange,” she said to Kira at her side. “The commander looks more like a nursemaid than a leader these days.”A few nearby warriors stiffened, their eyes darting between Mira and Trixie. Some pretended not to hear. Others shifted uneasily. The words hung in the air like smoke.Trixie paused. She turned her head slightly, her gaze finding Mira’s. For a long moment, no sound passed between them. Trixie did not raise her voice, nor did

The hall was heavy with silence after the duel. Mira knelt on the stone, her breath coming hard, sweat shining on her face. Kira stood with her head bowed, hands still raised as if surrendering. Trixie lowered the spear, her chest rising and falling. For a moment, she let her eyes move across the pack. Every face watched her, waiting for her word. Her voice carried clear and strong. “There is no place for betrayal in North Creek. Mira. Kira. You spoke against the heirs, against the blood that will carry us forward. You raised shadows where we needed light.” Mira lifted her head, eyes blazing with fury, but Trixie cut her off with one sharp look. “You will not die by my hand today,” she went on. “But neither will you stay among us. By my right as commander and mother of this pack, I strip you of your place here. From this day, you are exiled. You will walk beyond our borders, and you will not return. If you set foot here again, mercy will not greet you.” Gasps and murmurs ripp

The sun rose soft and golden over North Creek, washing the rooftops and stone walls in warmth. Dew clung to the grass, and the sound of water rushing through the stream carried across the courtyard. Inside the keep, Trixie sat by the wide window, the pups curled close to her chest. Marielle was half-asleep, her tiny hand tangled in Trixie’s braid. Afina gazed out the window and the boy — little Ryker — wriggled with endless energy, already impatient with stillness. “You’re too much like your father,” Trixie whispered with a tired smile, kissing his hair. Behind her, her mate leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, his rough edges softened by the sight before him. “I’ll take that as praise.” Trixie looked up at him, the faintest curve of a smile on her lips. “You should. It means trouble will follow him wherever he goes.” “Then he’ll never be bored,” Ryker said, moving forward to kneel beside her. He touched his son’s cheek gently with a calloused hand. The boy cooed and grabb