Chapter 63: Chapter Sixty-three

Chapter 63

Connor’s POV

The night was colder than I remembered. My cloak caught the wind, snapping against my boots as I moved deeper into the shadows. I had chosen this route for its obscurity, an old hunter’s trail abandoned years ago, but tonight it felt like every twisted branch and root was watching me, questioning why I walked the path of secrecy.

No one could know where I was going. Not the guards, not the villagers, not the pack loyalists that prowled the borders. Certainly not Edgar. Especially not him.

I pulled the hood lower over my brow. To most of them, I was still the ironclad enemy, the threat whispered about in hushed tones, the man they swore never to trust. They weren’t wrong. My blood wasn’t clean, my past wasn’t simple. I was the shadow that haunted their Alpha, a reminder of betrayal, a living scar. And yet, here I was, summoned for another meeting.

Her meeting.

When I reached the clearing, she was already there. Brie stood like a statue carved from marble, her cloak trailing against the frost-kissed grass. The moonlight fell across her features, sharpening them into something almost regal, though her eyes were anything but serene. They glittered, restless, calculating.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

I didn’t bother explaining. Brie thrived on control; she liked reminding me that I danced to her tempo. If I admitted to dodging patrols or circling twice around the outskirts to ensure I wasn’t followed, she’d take it as weakness, not prudence.

“I’m here,” I answered instead, my voice flat.

Her gaze raked over me as though measuring how much of a liability I was tonight. Then she turned, stepping deeper into the trees until the shadows swallowed us both. I followed, careful to match her pace but never walk beside her. Brie didn’t allow equals. She allowed pawns.

“I trust you’ve kept yourself scarce?” she asked as we moved. “No foolish appearances near the stronghold?”

I clenched my jaw. “You think I’m careless? If anyone even suspected”

She cut me off with a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Careless? No, Connor. I think you’re impatient. And impatience breeds mistakes far quicker than carelessness ever could.”

We reached the ruined remains of an old stone outpost, one of the many relics scattered through these woods. It was little more than a crumbling wall and a hollow tower now, but it served its purpose. Brie leaned against the stone as if it were her throne, the moonlight catching in her hair.

“You’re restless,” she said, studying me like a physician might study a patient before diagnosing a fatal sickness. “I can see it in your eyes. You want things to move faster.”

I didn’t deny it. “Every day he breathes, he grows harder to topple. The pack clings to him, even as his body weakens. They whisper of curses, of poison, of trials meant by the goddess herself, but they still rally to him. Every breath he takes makes him stronger in their eyes.”

Brie’s lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile, it was closer to a sneer. “That’s the way of the Alphas. They’re never stronger than when they’re weakest. Suffering makes martyrs, and martyrs are hard to kill.”

I exhaled slowly, letting the cold air burn in my chest. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Her gaze sharpened. “Patience.”

The word grated against me. Patience. How many times had I been told that? By her, by Quinn, even by my own thoughts when sleep evaded me. And yet every fiber of my being screamed for action, for resolution.

Brie leaned closer, her eyes never leaving mine. “Do you think power falls into one’s lap in a single strike? No. True power is dismantled piece by piece, until the tower crumbles under its own weight. That’s what we’re doing. Every step, every whisper, every poisoned cup, it chips away at the illusion that Edgar Nolan is untouchable.”

Her words should have satisfied me. They were logical, measured, the words of someone who saw the long game. But logic did little against the storm inside me.

“He’s fading,” I muttered. “We could end this now. Tonight.”

Brie tilted her head, studying me with something between amusement and warning. “And then what? You strike, the pack rallies, and you become the villain in every story they tell their children for centuries. Do you think they’ll follow the brother they never knew instead of the Alpha who crawled back from death time and again?”

The word brother made my throat tighten. I hated it when she said it aloud, like a knife twisting in a wound that never healed. Few knew the truth, fewer still dared to speak it. To the world, I was just Connor, the outsider, the enemy, the weapon pointed at the heart of the pack. To her, I was both a weapon and a liability.

I said nothing. My silence stretched between us like a taut rope.

Brie’s voice softened, though the steel never left it. “We are closer than you think. Pieces are moving, and Edgar is not the man he was. His body betrays him, his enemies multiply, and his council fractures with each passing day. Trust me, Connor. The moment will come. But if you act too soon, you’ll destroy everything we’ve built.”

Her words dug into me, slow and deliberate, the way poison works its way into the blood. And I hated how much sense they made.

Still, something gnawed at me. A hesitation. A memory. The way Edgar had stood before the council despite his frailty, unbroken. The way he carried himself even when his body faltered. There was a part of me, small but relentless, that almost respected him.

Almost.

I dragged my hand across the rough stone of the wall, grounding myself. “You sound so certain,” I said. “But certainty is dangerous.”

Brie’s smile finally appeared, sharp and cold. “And doubt is deadly. Which one would you rather hold in your chest, Connor?”

I didn’t answer.

The silence stretched, filled only by the rustle of wind in the trees. Brie didn’t need my words; she knew my place. I was her weapon, and weapons didn’t need certainty, they needed to strike when commanded.

Finally, she straightened, brushing the dust of stone from her cloak. “Exercise patience. Do not let your emotions dictate your actions. Watch, wait, and when the moment comes, you will not have to wonder what to do. I will tell you.”

Her words rang with finality. The conversation was over.

I pulled my hood tighter, hiding my expression as she turned and melted back into the shadows.

Alone now, I let my jaw unclench, my fists slowly relax. The forest seemed colder without her, the night heavier.

Patience.

The word echoed in my skull like a curse. I could wait. I would wait. But every second I lingered in the shadows, Edgar Nolan lived. And the longer he lived, the more I feared that the cracks I felt in myself weren’t weakness but doubt, maybe.

For now, I will wait. But not forever.

Never forever.