All Chapters of Our Broken Howls : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Sera POV The first attempt to pull someone away did not look like betrayal.That was the part that unsettled me most.It did not arrive in secrecy or sudden absence. It came wrapped in reason. In concern. In language that sounded protective rather than coercive. By the time it reached me, it had already been framed as a kindness.I learned about it through Lyra.She did not interrupt what I was doing. She waited until we were alone, until the day had slowed enough to absorb what she was about to say.“They spoke to Mara,” she said.My hand stilled.“How?” I asked.“Privately. Calmly. With documentation.”Of course they had prepared.“They offered her a role,” Lyra continued. “Not formal leadership. Advisory. Liaison.”A bridge. A buffer. A wedge.“And what did they want in return?” I asked.Lyra’s jaw tightened. “Public moderation. Quiet influence. Distance from you.”There it was again.Not removal.Redirection.Mara had been with us since the earliest days. Steady. Thoughtful. The

Sera POVThe morning after the defection did not feel quieter.It felt thinner.Not because sound had vanished, but because weight had shifted. Conversations still happened. Footsteps still crossed the clearing. Work still began on time. But something essential had been removed, and the air had not yet adjusted to its absence.People were careful now.Not cautious in the way fear makes you freeze, but careful in the way grief teaches you to step lightly around what hurts. No one wanted to be the one who disturbed the fragile equilibrium that existed only because no one had touched it yet.That was the danger.Unspoken fractures do not heal. They calcify.I woke before the camp stirred and walked the perimeter alone. The forest no longer offered comfort. It never had, really. I had mistaken familiarity for safety, and safety for permanence.By the time I returned, Tomas was waiting for me.“We need to talk,” he said, his voice already tight with restraint.“Yes,” I replied. “We do.”We

Sera POV The request did not give a location at first. That omission was deliberate. It placed the burden of interpretation on me, forcing me to decide whether to respond publicly or privately, formally or cautiously. Silence had been their pressure. Now ambiguity was.By morning, a second message arrived, clearer than the first.They wanted to meet at the administrative hall, mid afternoon, with observers present. Not witnesses. Observers. The difference mattered. Observers could be dismissed as neutral. Witnesses implied accountability.They were controlling the language before the conversation even began.I did not reply immediately. Instead, I walked the camp, letting people see me reading the notice, folding it, carrying it with me. Visibility was no longer optional. If they were going to frame me, I would not allow them to do it in absence.Tomas joined me near the western fire pits.“They chose the hall,” he said. “That means this isn’t a negotiation. It’s a presentation.”“Ye

Sera POV The retaliation did not arrive with sirens or shouts. It came the way pressure always does when it believes itself justified. Quietly. Methodically. With enough distance that those applying it could still claim innocence.By morning, access routes had changed.Nothing was officially closed. No barriers were erected. Instead, permits were suddenly required for paths that had never needed them before. Checkpoints appeared with polite attendants who smiled too often and asked too many questions. Supplies moved more slowly. Messages took longer to reach their destinations.Every delay was reasonable in isolation.Together, they formed a pattern.I walked the camp early, watching how people adjusted. Some rerouted instinctively, avoiding scrutiny. Others bristled, stopping to argue at checkpoints, voices rising before being gently calmed. A few simply turned back, unwilling to test how far resistance could go.Fear spreads faster when it looks sensible.Tomas met me near the supp

Sera POV The sun had barely touched the trees when I realized the shift had already begun. The camp moved differently now. Even without orders, every footstep was measured, every word calculated. The subtle movements of containment, the observations we had learned to endure, had reshaped behavior into something almost unrecognizable. Vigilance had become instinct. Fear had become quiet. But resilience had grown alongside it.I walked past the central clearing, noting faces that were tense, lips pressed in lines, eyes flicking toward the periphery. The patrols were already in place, their positions consistent but watchful, as if every glance and gesture might reveal something I should correct. Their presence was not threatening in the overt sense. It was the weight of scrutiny that pressed, steady and deliberate. Every human and wolf in the camp understood this. Even Erya, still half asleep, sensed the gravity, her small hand gripping mine instinctively as we moved.By mid-morning, th