Chapter 81 – Council of Teeth
Ronan
The council chamber reeks of tension. Stone walls hold the heat of too many bodies pressed too close, voices raised in teeth-bared argument. Torches gutter, throwing sharp light across faces I know too well.
My inner circle, my hunters, my challengers. Tonight they look more like a pack of vultures than the backbone of Blackthorn.
The ledger sits open in front of me, ink scrawled by hands I trust less every passing day. Supplies missing. Rations gone. Crossbows that should’ve been at the border outpost, vanished. Patrol logs altered to make it look like nothing’s wrong.
Every instinct in me screams a name. Loran. But instinct isn’t proof. And proof is the only thing that can keep this council from turning on itself like rabid dogs.
I stand at the head of the table, my hands braced on rough oak, and wait. The noise dies the moment my weight shifts forward. My silence has always been sharper than shouting.
“We’ve lost more than food,” I say. My voice scrapes against stone. “We’ve lost discipline. Order. Wolves who are supposed to watch our borders are playing games with their ledgers.”
Across the table, a younger wolf clears his throat. Marek. Barely past twenty winters, but arrogant enough to believe age doesn’t matter when blood runs hot. His eyes flick toward Eli where he stands near the wall, silently watching.
“And what if,” Marek says slowly, “It isn’t a game? What if it’s sabotage? If the Alpha’s household has been compromised?”
The silence that follows is the kind that bites.
My head turns toward him, slow as the grind of gears. “Say what you mean.”
He doesn’t flinch. Foolish boy. “Eli arrived, and suddenly the Redmaw test us harder. Supplies vanish. Orders get muddled. Maybe the Alpha’s… distractions… are costing the pack.”
The growl that rips from my chest rattles the torches.
In two strides I’m on him, fist gripping his collar, slamming him back against the table so hard the wood groans. Dishes crash to the floor. Wolves surge to their feet, but none dare move between us.
“You question me,” I snarl, teeth bared inches from his face, “By questioning him.”
Marek’s breath stutters, but he doesn’t look away. “I’m questioning what the pack whispers. You think you can choke every tongue into silence?”
I want to break him. Snap his neck and let his corpse be the answer. But I force myself to stop just short, holding him there against the table with my rage thrumming hot and poisonous through my blood.
“Eli stands because I allow it,” I say, each word clipped, sharp enough to cut. “He stays because I’ve chosen him. You want to call that weakness? Then call me weak to my face.”
A ripple of discomfort moves through the chamber. No one speaks. No one dares. Even Marek isn’t stupid enough to cross that line.
I release him, shoving him back into his seat with enough force to rattle his bones. He straightens his collar with trembling fingers, cheeks mottled with humiliation, but he doesn’t push further. He knows how close he came.
My eyes sweep the room. Nobody else dares to speak, but the spark’s already been tossed into dry tinder.
“Anyone else?” I ask, voice low and dangerous. “Anyone else think they can poison this council with rumors instead of answers?”
Silence.
Good.
But it’s not enough. The whispers won’t stop just because I snarled them into silence. They’ll only move lower, faster, sharper.
The meeting drags on, voices circling the same hollow arguments. We debate supply chains, border patrols, strategies for rooting out theft. I let them talk themselves raw while my mind ticks, calculating.
Silvercrest is still paying for our protection. Ashgrave still slinks at the edges of every council vote, their betrayal fresh enough to rot in my mouth. Redmaw presses harder every week, using intel they shouldn’t have. Someone is feeding them.
And the pack knows it. They just don’t know who. Which means suspicion will always slide to the outsider, the one who doesn’t fit, the omega at my side.
Eli.
I catch his eye across the chamber. He’s standing at the back, arms crossed, expression calm, but his pulse thrums visibly at the hollow of his throat. He heard every word. Felt every knife they tried to slip under his ribs.
And he stays silent. That’s what cuts deepest. He won’t defend himself, not here. He knows it would only feed the fire. I shouldn’t have allowed him to attend. Not when things are so unsettled. But he will be my companion forever and they have to get used to seeing him. Accepting his authority as my consort.
My wolf rages. I want to drag him to my side, show them all what possession looks like when it’s absolute. But that would only confirm what they already whisper. That I’ve gone soft, blinded by him.
So I force myself still. Let the meeting grind on until the last voices burn out.
When it ends, I dismiss them with a flick of my hand. Wolves scatter, murmuring, heads bent close together. The air stinks of unease.
Only Eli lingers, waiting until the last of them file out. Then he pushes off the wall, walking toward me with that unhurried prowl that hides too much.
“You could’ve just let it go,” he says softly. “You didn’t need to snap his neck in front of everyone.”
“I didn’t,” I bite back.
“You almost did.”
I rake a hand through my hair, frustration clawing under my skin. “He questioned you.”
“And you nearly proved him right.” Eli’s eyes are bright, sharp. “They already think I’m a liability. That I’ve got my claws sunk too deep in you. You putting Marek through the table doesn’t exactly help my case.”
I step into his space, close enough that he has to tilt his chin to meet my gaze. “Your case? You don’t need a case, Eli. You’re mine.”
For a heartbeat, silence. His breath hitches. Then he smiles, bitter and small. “That’s exactly what they’re afraid of.”
I hate the way the truth tastes when he says it.
My hand lifts, cupping his jaw, fingers pressing into the sharp line of his throat. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t yield. His pulse thrums wild under my thumb, but his eyes never break from mine.
“You let me worry about the council,” I murmur, low and rough. “You worry about me.”
His lips part, a retort sharp on his tongue. I don’t let it out. I kiss him hard, teeth catching his lower lip until he gasps. For an instant, the world shrinks to this. His mouth, his pulse, his defiance burning hotter than fear.
When I pull back, my voice is a growl against his mouth. “They can question my judgment all they want. But no one questions what’s mine and lives to keep their tongue.”
Eli studies me, chest rising fast, lips swollen from the bite I left. He shakes his head once, sharp. “You’re going to burn this whole pack down if you keep going like this.”
“Then let it burn,” I whisper.
Because the only thing I care about saving is already in my hands.
That night, long after the council’s echoes fade, I sit alone in the chamber. The ledgers lie open before me, numbers swimming like blood on parchment. Proof still slips through my fingers, but the shape of the traitor sharpens.
Loran sits in my periphery like a shadow. Waiting. Watching. Smiling when the council bleeds.
And Eli’s name drips from too many mouths, carrying the scent of deception.
I press my palm flat against the ledger, forcing my wolf still. I will find the proof. I will put the knife in the right throat.
Until then, I’ll bare my teeth at anyone who dares come for him.
Because Eli may think he’s walking a line between trust and ruin. But I’ve already chosen. And I will rip this pack apart before I let them tear him from me.