Chapter 43:
“You left this pack, Dante. You left me. And now you show up, expecting what? Forgiveness? A place among us?”
Her accusation stung, but I held her gaze.
“I don’t expect anything, Elara. I came because I can help. I know how Silas thinks. I know his tactics, his weaknesses. If I can give you even the smallest advantage, it’s worth being here.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the battle waging inside her—the conflict between distrust and the bond that had always existed between us. It was a bond I’d never truly been able to sever, no matter how far I’d wandered.
“You’ll have to prove it,” she said finally.
“Not to me, but to the pack. They won’t follow someone they don’t trust.”
Later that afternoon, I found myself standing on the edge of the training grounds, watching as younger wolves sparred under the watchful eyes of their mentors. Their energy was infectious, their determination reminding me of the days when I’d been one of them—eager, ambitious, hungry for approval.
“Dante,” a voice called, drawing me from my thoughts. It was Lyle, a young wolf I recognized vaguely from years ago, though he had been just a pup then. He approached cautiously, his posture respectful but curious.
“Can you show me how you did that move during the patrols earlier? The way you countered Tyren’s attack—it was… different.”
His interest caught the attention of a few others, and soon a small group of young wolves had gathered, their gazes eager. Despite myself, I felt a flicker of something—pride, maybe. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at me like that.
“Sure,” I said, my voice steady.
“It’s about momentum. If you’re smaller or lighter, you don’t meet force with force—you redirect it.”
I stepped into the sparring circle, demonstrating the movement with a young wolf named Kara. She lunged at me, her attack sharp but predictable. I sidestepped, catching her wrist and pivoting to use her own weight against her. She tumbled harmlessly to the ground, laughing as she got back up.
The others watched intently, nodding as I explained the technique. For a moment, I forgot the mistrust, the whispers. Here, with these wolves still learning their place, I found a piece of the connection I had lost.
But as the session ended and the young wolves dispersed, the murmurs returned. They were quieter now, carried on the edges of conversations I wasn’t meant to hear.
“Why is he here?” one wolf muttered.
“Can we even trust him?” whispered another.
“He abandoned us. Why does Elara let him stay?”
Their words stung, each one a reminder of the distance between me and the pack I had once called family. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to push the doubt aside. I hadn’t expected them to welcome me with open arms. But hearing their distrust voiced so openly left a wound I hadn’t prepared for.
That night, as I lay on the sparse bedding in the den Elara had assigned me, the whispers echoed in my mind. The weight of their judgment was a heavy counterpoint to the faint pride I had felt earlier with the younger wolves. It was clear that rebuilding their trust would be a long road, one fraught with obstacles I couldn’t yet see.
My thoughts drifted to Elara. She had grown so much since I’d left, stepping into a role I had once coveted. Watching her lead with strength and grace filled me with both pride and guilt. She didn’t need me—not the way I had imagined she might. She was more than capable of holding this pack together, of facing the challenges ahead.
And yet, here I was, drawn back by a force I couldn’t ignore. Whether it was duty, redemption, or something deeper, I couldn’t say. But one thing was certain: I had to prove myself—not just to her, but to the entire pack.
For Talon Pack, for Elara, and for the bond that still tied me to this place, I would find my way back. Even if it meant starting at the very bottom.
POV: Elara
