Chapter 43 Days After

Chapter 43 Days After


Chapter — Annie’s POV

(The Days After)

The forest was quieter than it should have been.

Not peaceful—just… hesitant.

I noticed it the second morning after I moved to the eastern residence. Birds still called, leaves still shifted with the wind, but the rhythm felt off. Like a pack holding its breath.

I woke early, as I always did. Habit didn’t disappear just because authority was taken away. I washed, dressed, tied my hair back, and stepped outside. The house was old but solid. Stone walls. Narrow windows. Built for watching borders, not comfort.

I liked that.

No whispers behind doors here. No careful smiles. No pretending.

I walked the perimeter alone, boots steady on the earth. I wasn’t supposed to patrol anymore. That was clear. But no one had said I couldn’t observe.

And I observed everything.

By midday, the first sign came.

Two young guards argued near the outer fence. Loud voices. Sharp movements. No senior wolf stepping in quickly enough.

Before, that would have ended in seconds.

Now, it stretched.

I stayed where I was, hidden behind trees, listening.

“You weren’t supposed to switch positions without clearance,” one snapped.

“I followed the new schedule,” the other replied. “That’s what they told us to do.”

“They?” the first scoffed. “Who is they now?”

Silence followed.

Confusion is dangerous. More dangerous than enemies.

I turned away before they noticed me.

That evening, news reached me without anyone meaning to bring it.

A border patrol misread tracks. Assumed threat. Nearly attacked a neutral group passing through. Riley intervened at the last moment.

Nearly.

That word sat heavy in my chest.

This wouldn’t have happened before.

I didn’t feel satisfaction. I didn’t feel vindicated.

I felt tired.

The third day, it got worse.

Training grounds closed early. An injury. Nothing fatal—but avoidable. Too much force. Poor judgment.

Fear-driven.

That night, someone knocked on my door.

Not loudly. Not confidently.

I opened it to find Mara standing there. One of the younger sentries. Barely past her first shift year. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes darting behind her like she expected to be followed.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re already here,” I replied calmly. “Come in.”

She hesitated, then stepped inside.

She didn’t sit. Just stood near the door, hands clenched.

“They’re saying things,” she blurted out.

“I know.”

“They keep changing instructions. One elder says one thing, another says something else. And Celeste—” She stopped herself.

“Say it,” I said gently.

Mara swallowed. “She keeps correcting Riley. In front of people.”

That was new.

“And today,” Mara continued, voice dropping, “she ordered us to double the eastern watch and pull guards from the southern ridge.”

I stiffened. “Why?”

“She said the eastern border is weaker.”

It isn’t.

“You know that,” Mara added quietly. “You trained us.”

“Yes,” I said. “I did.”

Mara finally looked at me fully. Her eyes were almost desperate.

“What would you do?” she asked.

There it was.

Not a request for help.

A request for guidance.

I took a slow breath. “I would reinforce both sides lightly,” I said. “Not strip one to protect the other. Balance matters.”

Mara nodded like she was memorizing every word.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She left as quietly as she came.

I closed the door and leaned my forehead against the wood.

This was beginning.

The mistake happened two days later.

It wasn’t dramatic.

That’s what made it unforgivable.

Celeste ordered a night patrol change without consulting the terrain maps. She trusted numbers over knowledge. Authority over experience.

A young wolf—Eren—was sent alone to a zone that required pairs.

An ambush followed.

He survived.

Barely.

The pack didn’t roar in anger.

They murmured.

And murmurs are dangerous.

Riley visited me that night.

He didn’t knock.

He never did.

“You heard,” he said.

“Yes.”

His jaw was tight. Controlled. Too controlled.

“She denied responsibility,” he said. “Said fear forced quick decisions.”

“And the elders?”

“Divided.”

That was worse than opposition.

“They asked me something today,” Riley continued.

I turned to face him. “What?”

“They asked what you would have done.”

I held his gaze. “And what did you say?”

“I said,” he replied, “that they already knew the answer.”

Silence filled the room.

“They’re not ready to admit they were wrong,” he said quietly. “But they’re starting to understand the cost.”

I nodded. “Fear always demands payment.”

“And loyalty?” he asked.

I met his eyes steadily. “Loyalty remembers.”

He studied me for a long moment, then said, “They’ll ask you back.”

“Eventually,” I agreed.

“But not yet,” he added.

“No,” I said. “Not yet.”

Riley exhaled slowly. “Good.”

That night, I stood outside again, watching the forest.

I wasn’t angry anymore.

I wasn’t hurt.

I was… waiting.

They thought removing me would bring peace.

Instead, it revealed something far more dangerous than me.

Their fear.

And fear, once exposed, can never be controlled again.

Not by Celeste.

Not by elders.

Not even by an Alpha.

Only by truth.

And soon—

They would have to face it.