Chapter 66

“But keeping them risks more,” Helena countered, eyes flicking to me. “Their blood could tell us what they planned, what they carried. If they bore infection, poison… we could find out.”

Marcellus’s voice rumbled, heavy as stone. “And if we refuse him, he may get provoked and return with a larger number of rogue wolves. Do we wish to provoke war we are not yet ready to fight?”

They went back and forth, their arguments floating around me, voices overlapping, sharp and unrelenting as each person wanted to be heard.

“We should return the bodies-”

“Never. To give ground is weakness.”

“Let’s at least meet him first. Hear him out.”

“No….McCane is a viper. His words cannot be trusted.”

“If we keep them here, we can study them.”

“Defile the dead and we invite curses on us all.”

It was a rush of words, but beneath it, I felt the truth…they were testing me. Weighing me.

Seeing if I would bend or break under the strain.

Too bad for them that I was made out of stronger material.

At last, Garrick slammed his fist against the table, tired of the incessant debate. “Answer us, Tristan. Where do you stand? With your house in shambles, your brother unpunished and your mate canoodling….tell us why this pack should follow you into war, if war comes.”

The chamber went deathly quiet.

This was the chance to prove to them whether I could handle the responsibility placed on me or not.

My wolf rose in me, like a dark tide.

I let it bleed through my skin, let the air itself grow thick with it.

My wolf floated to the surface, the sheer power causing the air to grow thick.

Flames flickered in their places, swaying gently in the night breeze.

The elders shifted, discomfort flickering across their faces, even Garrick…the most stoic of them all looked away as the weight of my dominance filled the room.

When I finally spoke, my voice was low and steady, the undercurrent of danger and power swirling in my tone.

“I will say this once and only once…. Do not mistake my silence for weakness. Kieran breathes because I allow it. Isla is the Luna because she is mine, and the perfect fit for the job. And as for McCane… if he wishes to meet me, then let him come but he will not leave with the dead.” A slow, cruel smirk lifted my lips. “In fact, He might not leave at all.”

The chamber seemed to shrink around the words.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

I let the silence stretch, then turned on my heel, leaving them to choke on it.

No one tells me what to do.

Tristan POV

I pushed open the door to my room with more force than necessary, the council’s voices still echoing in my skull.

Garrick’s stubbornness, Marcellus’ cautious tones, the weight of decisions I wasn’t sure I wanted to carry…. it all clung to me like smoke to leather.

For a moment, I thought I’d come back to find silence, the kind that wraps itself around your shoulders and gives you a place to breathe.

A place to run away from the outside world.

But sadly, she was awake.

Isla.

She was lying in bed, her body half-turned toward the door, a soft lamplight spilling across her figure. For a heartbeat, I thought she was asleep, her chest rising in even breaths.

Then her eyes opened…. As she stared at me, her gaze was clear and alert.

She wore a nightgown I hadn’t seen before, a pale fabric that clung in all the ways that made my other member roar to life.

My eyes lingered on the exposed skin before I could stop myself.

I don't know how I never really noticed but she was beautiful. Too beautiful.

I dragged my gaze away and shut the door quietly, as if doing so could shut down the chaos unraveling inside me.

“Hey, you're back. So how was the meeting?” her voice cut through the quiet, soft but steady.

I froze. I wasn’t ready for her questions, not tonight anyway. “Fine,” I muttered, untying my jacket and setting it on the chair.

“Fine?” she repeated, rolling the word around on her tongue. “Is that really all that you're gonna say?”

I didn’t respond to her questions, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off my boots with deliberate focus.

I feared that if I looked at her, really looked, I might lose my balance.

I guess I was just hoping that keeping her quiet would make her go back to sleep or forget about it.

But she didn't.

Isla shifted, sitting up straighter. “All I’m asking is one simple question, Tristan. But you never open up. Instead, you shut me out every single time.”

Her words struck sharper than I expected and my shoulders tensed.

I wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault…. that I wasn’t used to sharing or the opening up to someone was a foreign concept to me.

Those words from a leader’s mouth could turn into poison in another’s ear.

But the words tangled in my throat so I simply looked away.

“Why?” she pressed. “Why do you push me away like this? I'm your mate after all these are pretty simple questions. Tristan, do you maybe hate me?”

My eyes flew up to hers upon hearing that word but I looked away moments later.

Mate. It dug under my skin.

A bond I hadn’t chosen.

A fate I hadn’t welcomed but it was present nonetheless.

My chest tightened, and the air in the room felt heavier.

“You must really hate me because you couldn’t even push Viviana away.” Isla continued, and the sting in her tone cut deeper than claws. “You let her sit with you, touch you, whisper to you like you’d forgotten I even exist. You defended her in front of the council, Tristan. Do you know what that felt like for me?”

Her words slammed into me, and for the first time ever I could understand how she felt.

My chest burned with something ugly… shame, defensiveness, all swirling together.

Maybe it was the combination of all of them, because I blurted out the words before I could stop myself. “It wasn’t like that-”

“Oh, it was like that!” she shot back, her voice breaking on at the end. “Don’t tell me I didn’t see what I saw.”

I turned then, finally meeting her gaze.

Anger flared hot in her eyes, but underneath it was something else.

Something I recognised.

Hurt and disappointment.