Chapter Sixty-Five: Simon's POV
The scent of wild berries and rain-soaked forest cut through the antiseptic that had filled the room for weeks.
For the first time since I woke, my wolf stirred, but I forced myself to stay still against the pillows.
The moment I saw Carol push through the door, the tension I'd been holding for a week finally released.
The relief was so overwhelming it almost made me dizzy, more effective than any medication the doctor had given me.
Since waking from the coma, I'd been waiting for her to appear.
Waiting for her to push through that door like before, even if she just stood at the entrance, using those amber eyes to confirm I was still alive.
But she hadn't come.
Not when I first woke, not when I could barely sit up, not even when Clara said I could move around the bedroom.
That absence hurt more than the wound the silver bullet left behind.
I thought she wouldn't come back, thought she'd finally grown tired of this world that kept pushing her toward danger, tired of me—the Alpha she'd been forced to depend on since she was twelve but always resisted.
Every time I returned from overseas missions, I could feel that subtle discomfort between us.
She was always tense, and when I walked into a room, she became even more rigid, as if guarding against something.
But this time was different.
She was the human girl despised by the entire pack, yet during my coma, she single-handedly held up the entire Valodin family.
When I finally opened my eyes and heard from Samuel what she'd been doing these days, the first question I asked was "Where is she?"
The answer was silence.
Carol walked in. She wore that worn leather jacket, shoulders straight, chin lifted at that stubborn angle, making something in my chest tighten and burn.
In that moment, neither of us moved.
Eight years. Back when I saved that terrified girl from Var's grip, she hadn't even reached my chest, all sharp edges and raw wildness.
Now she stood before me, composed and steady. In my absence, she'd single-handedly kept the entire pack running.
She had grown to a point where my wolf submitted to her, while I wanted to pin her in place until she understood what she'd done to me.
I couldn't do either.
"Marcus told me what you've been doing. You did well," I said.
A flash of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by that stubborn expression.
"It's my responsibility."
"I'm Osmon's daughter. While you were... unable to act, the pack needed leadership."
Osmon's daughter. Not "your ward." Not "the girl you saved."
She claimed her father's legacy as if she had every right to it, as if she hadn't spent twelve years believing she was nothing more than an abandoned human child who failed to shift during puberty.
Samuel had drawn the curtains, leaving only dim light in the room.
I looked at the shadows under her eyes, signs she hadn't slept much, the burden too heavy on her shoulders.
Her knuckles bore fresh bruises, unhidden. She stood there motionless, like a warrior ready for the next attack at any moment.
She'd grown stronger in my absence, not through training, but forced out of necessity.
Part of me felt relieved, another part wanted to burn down everything that had forced her to become this way.
Maybe it was time. Time to let her pursue the truth about her father's death herself.
"You're right." I watched her eyes widen slightly, surprise hidden there.
I rarely admitted she was right; it set a dangerous precedent.
"You are Osmon's daughter. Which means it's time you understood the true weight of that identity. Starting tomorrow, your temporary authority over the pack becomes permanent. You'll attend Elder Council meetings, participate in binding votes. And..."
I paused. "You have the right to access the investigation files on your father's death. All of them. Including the classified material sealed by the Council."
Her breath caught, sharp and quick.
For a moment, she looked exactly like that twelve-year-old who used to stand outside my study door in the middle of the night, too proud to admit she'd had another nightmare.
"You're serious?" she asked.
"I don't joke about pack business. You've earned it." I shifted against the pillows, ignoring the silver poison burning through my lymphatic system like liquid fire.
The doctors said the toxin was breaking down, my body finally recognizing the foreign substance and beginning to expel it. But the process felt like being skinned alive from the inside out.
She nodded decisively.
I saw her spine straighten, determination replacing the chaos in her eyes.
She didn't need comfort or gentleness.
She needed a mission, a goal where she could uncover those hidden truths.
"Tomorrow then," she said. "The Council meets at noon?"
"Noon." I confirmed, closing my eyes briefly.
Exhaustion pulled at the edges of my consciousness.
The silver poison had robbed me of much strength, and the wounds would take weeks to heal.
I hated this, hated being so weak, hated lying in this bed while the pack faced threats I should have handled myself.
I also hated how Carol's scent clung to me, making me want her when I could barely stand.
The Elder Council chamber smelled of old leather and older grudges.
The dark wood paneling and burgundy carpet were soaked with five generations of pack politics, these carpets older than my tenure.
I hadn't inherited the Alpha position.
After Osmon died, the Valodin family had no leader.
I participated in the challenge ceremony, defeated all opponents, and earned this seat.
That battle lasted three hours.
But even now, after ten years as Alpha, some still thought I was just a usurper who stole power, not someone who inherited it by bloodline.
Grey was one of them.
I watched him shift in his seat in the semicircular Elder row, third from the left.
His wolf form was adequate, but not outstanding.
His political instincts were sharp, just limited in scope.
Since becoming an Elder, he'd been looking for my weaknesses, waiting for me to show a crack.
Today, he clearly felt he'd found his opportunity.
The meeting started normally.
Territory reports, resource allocation, routine matters that couldn't be delegated to subordinates.
I listened to those reports while watching Carol from the corner of my eye.
I watched how she absorbed information, watched her finger tap once on her leg when Marcus mentioned the Andreas family's movements near our eastern border.
I watched her carefully maintain composure, because she knew every pair of eyes in the room was watching her, judging whether she deserved to sit here.
She deserved it.
More than half the people in this room. Those who relied not on ability, but seniority and tradition.
After the last report ended, I spoke.
I lowered my voice to a level that made weaker wolves instinctively tense at the back of their necks.
"Now, let's discuss the pack's future leadership. I trust you've all noticed that during my recovery, Carol Valodin handled matters very well. Starting today, her authority is no longer temporary. In all pack matters, she speaks for me. Any order she gives equals a direct command from the Alpha. Is this clear to everyone?"
People in the room carefully masked their reactions. Some surprised, some calculating.
As for Grey, satisfaction was almost visible on his face.
"With respect, Alpha," he said.
"I must question whether this decision is wise. Carol is undoubtedly smart and capable, but she's too young, untested in real crisis, and..." He paused, giving his next words more weight. "She's human. Are we really going to hand pack leadership to someone who isn't a wolf?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
I didn't need to release Alpha pressure, just looking directly into Grey's eyes was enough.
His wolf instincts made him whimper, his body almost recoiling.
"Are you questioning my judgment, Elder Grey?"
"I'm questioning your leadership ability, Alpha Simon." He stood up.