Chapter 46:
The whispers had grown louder, no longer confined to the shadows. As I walked through the heart of the compound, the tension pressed against my skin like a storm building on the horizon. Wolves who had once greeted me with confidence now avoided my gaze, their conversations halting as I passed. Others didn’t even bother to conceal their unease, their eyes lingering on me with thinly veiled doubt.
They were talking about him. About Dante. And, by extension, about me.
The unease gnawed at me, each hushed exchange a splinter driving itself deeper under my skin. Dante’s return had shifted something fundamental, unraveling the unity I had fought so hard to build. Every step I took through the compound felt heavier, the weight of the pack’s fractured trust threatening to break me before the coming battle even began.
As I neared the sparring grounds, raised voices caught my attention. A small crowd of wolves had gathered, their postures tense. I quickened my pace, catching snippets of the argument as I approached.
“You think he cares about the pack?” growled Ren, a seasoned warrior who had always been fiercely loyal to me.
“He left us, and now he’s back like nothing happened. How can we trust him?”
Lyle, one of the younger wolves who had grown close to Dante since his return, stepped forward, his ears pinned back.
“Dante’s done more for us in a few weeks than most of us have in years! He’s training us to be stronger, faster. If you’d stop clinging to the past, you’d see that.”
Ren snarled, his hackles rising.
“Watch your tongue, pup. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough to see that you’re afraid of him,” Lyle shot back.
“Afraid he might actually be the leader we need.”
The tension crackled between them, the surrounding wolves murmuring in hushed tones. I stepped into the circle, my voice sharp and commanding.
“Enough!”
All eyes turned to me, the argument dissolving under the weight of my presence.
“This pack will not be divided by…
“Petty arguments,” I said, my gaze sweeping over them.
“Dante is here because I allowed it. If you question his place, you question me.”
Ren dipped his head reluctantly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. Lyle looked vindicated, though he wisely kept silent. The others exchanged uneasy glances, their mistrust simmering just below the surface.
I held their gazes for a moment longer before turning and walking away, my chest tight with frustration. The pack wasn’t just doubting Dante—they were doubting me. And if I didn’t find a way to address it, that doubt would tear us apart.
The air in the council’s meeting room was thick with tension when I arrived. Osric sat near the window, his usually calm demeanor replaced with a hard edge. Celia gave me a small, reassuring nod as I entered, but her concern was clear in the furrow of her brow. Mara and Geth exchanged uneasy glances, their whispers falling silent as I took my place at the head of the table.
“Elara,” Osric began, his voice careful but firm, “we need to talk about the unrest within the pack.”
I leaned forward slightly, my gaze sharp.
“Go on.”
“There have been whispers,” he continued, his hands clasped on the table.
“About Dante. His return has stirred up… doubts.”
“Doubts about what?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Mara shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“Doubts about leadership,” she said, her tone hesitant.
“Some of the younger wolves—those who train with him—see him as a leader. Perhaps even…” She trailed off, her gaze darting to Osric for support.
