Chapter 11: Strange Scent

Ashton's POV

The meeting dragged on longer than I expected. From the corner of the waiting room, I could hear voices spilling faintly through the double doors—low, heated tones that rose and fell like waves colliding against sharp rocks. They weren’t words I could make out clearly, but the emotions seeped through. Disagreement. Frustration.

Annabelle hadn’t left my side since I came out of that episode. She sat with her back straight, her hands folded tightly in her lap like she was holding herself together with sheer will. I wanted to tell her to relax, to let her shoulders down, but her expression was unreadable. She didn’t say much. Only glanced at me every so often, as though measuring my strength, as though wondering if I might collapse again.

Her presence settled something in me—just barely.

I leaned back against the chair, arms crossed over my chest, eyes fixed on the flickering to the windows once in a while. My wolf wasn’t calm; it paced restlessly inside me, pushing against the cage of my ribs. Every inhale of Annabelle’s scent only made it worse.

I should have felt grounded. Instead, I was restless.

“Stop looking at me like I’ll break again,” I muttered without glancing at her.

“I wasn’t,” she replied quickly, though her voice wavered.

“Yes, you were.” I turned to her fully, my gaze catching hers. Her eyes didn’t flinch away, but I saw the worry, the stubbornness, the way her jaw clenched as though she’d rather argue with me— and with unsaid words . She reminded me of myself more than I cared to admit.

She dropped her gaze after a moment, fiddling with the bottle in her hands. The faint scent of herbs and smoke curled out from the corked top. Whatever potion she’d made wasn’t ordinary—my body still hummed faintly from its effect, dulling the sharpest edges of pain even now.

“You’re reckless,” I told her.

Her head snapped up. “For helping you?”

“For not telling me you had something like that in the first place.”

Annabelle’s eyes narrowed. “And what would you have done if I told you? I don't want to give you false hopes, because I know this isn't the cure you're looking for.” Her tone was sharper than I expected.

I stiffened. “That’s not what I meant..”

“It’s what you meant.”

Silence stretched between us. My wolf growled low in my chest, angry at her defiance, angry at myself for snapping at her when she’d been the one holding me through my worst moments. I hated this pull—this unbearable tether that made me want to claim her and strangle her in the same breath.

Before I could respond, the council doors creaked open. A man stepped out, his presence commanding even though he wasn’t Alpha. His eyes scanned the room, landing on me.

“The council will break for a short recess. The Alpha has requested privacy with Miss Annabelle.” His voice was smooth but cold, the kind that carried authority without raising volume.

I don't like the thought of her being away from me and walking right where the enemy is. Why is she being asked questions? It's her father's decision not hers. Wrapping my head around this situation is giving me a fucking headache.

Annabelle stiffened beside me, then stood. She looked at me once—briefly, as though seeking reassurance she’d never ask for—and followed the man through the door.

I remained seated, fists clenching around the arms of the chair. Every instinct screamed to follow, but I stayed put. This was her father’s pack. Their grounds. Storming in would only bring the war I was trying to avoid.

Minutes stretched like hours. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, head bowed. Flashes of Annabelle’s words ran through me—“I want to be here to heal him in case anything happens.” Damn her stubborn courage.

Finally, she returned. Her steps were measured, her expression controlled, but I didn’t miss the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides.

I stood immediately. “What happened?”

She hesitated, eyes darting back toward the doors as though they might still hear. Then she moved closer, lowering her voice. “They’re pressuring him to stay. The council wants him to reinforce the borders, not leave them weaker. They called him a traitor for even suggesting he wanted to leave the pack.”

I ground my teeth, fury spiking hot in my veins. “And your father? What's he saying?”

“He hasn’t spoken yet.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “He’s waiting for the right moment. He says… once the council recess ends, he’ll announce it. He wants to do it formally. Honorably.”

I swore under my breath. Honor wouldn’t protect him. Not against packs that thrived on strength and loyalty above all else.

“You’re both fools,” I muttered, raking a hand through my hair.

Annabelle’s eyes flared. “Don’t insult him. He’s doing what he believes is right. What would you do in his place? Crawl out in shame? Hide in some corner safe house while your name is dragged through the mud?”

The venom in her voice caught me off guard. She was trembling—not with fear, but with anger. Anger directed at me.

I stepped closer, towering over her, my voice dropping to a growl. “I’ve bled more than you can imagine to keep my pack alive. I’ve sacrificed men, trust, and pieces of my soul to hold onto the throne. If your father’s honor costs lives, then yes, I would crawl. Because pride doesn’t win wars. Power does.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She looked away, lashes lowering to hide her expression.

The door creaked again, and we both turned. This time it was Paul, his sharp eyes scanning the room before they landed on me.

“Alpha,” he greeted with a slight bow of his head, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed the formality. “Thought I’d find you here pacing holes in the floor.”

“Shut it,” I snapped, though relief loosened something in my chest at the sight of him.

He moved closer, glancing between me and Annabelle. “The council’s restless. They don’t want her father stepping down, and they’re starting to look at her like she’s part of the problem.”

Annabelle stiffened. Paul noticed, his expression softening slightly. “You’ll be fine, Belle. But Ashton—if he declares rogue, this whole place will ignite. We need to move now, not after.”

I nodded grimly. “Agreed.”

Annabelle looked between us, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Move? You mean leave? He hasn’t even said the words yet—”

“That’s why we need to be ahead of it,” I cut in. “The second he does, he’ll be vulnerable. They’ll strip his title, his protection. We can’t wait for ceremony.”

She shook her head furiously. “No. If he’s going to do this, he’ll do it with dignity. I won’t let you drag him out like a criminal.”

Paul raised a brow at me, clearly waiting to see how I’d handle this.

I exhaled slowly, forcing the snarl back down my throat. “Annabelle… if we wait, they might not let him walk out at all.”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t thought of that. Good. Maybe it would sink in.

But instead, she drew herself up, shoulders squared, voice steady. “Then I’ll walk out with him. If they want to stop him, they’ll have to go through me too.”

My wolf surged, rage and pride colliding in my chest at once. Damn her. Damn her fire.

I wanted to shake her, to drag her out of here myself, but something in me knew better. Annabelle wasn’t just stubborn—she was immovable when her mind was set. If I tried to force her hand, she’d break herself against me before she bent.

Paul cleared his throat. “She’s her father’s daughter, Ashton. We’re not winning this argument.”

I turned my glare on him. “You’re not helping.”

He shrugged. “I’m being honest.”

I took in a deep breath, she must know that she's won because no one says anything and my silence is like an approval for them to go on with what was on their minds.

“This could go South really fast, know that I will get you out of here before anyone tries to hurt you. For me you come first Annabelle.” I replied shortly after.

Annabelle’s lips twitched, almost like she wanted to smile despite the tension, but she bit it back. Paul looked at me like I had grown two heads and he'd probably have a lot to say but damn him. I needed to get out of here really fast, I can't have one of my episodes again. Not when everything is at stake.

The council doors opened wide then, and voices filled the corridor. Annabelle’s father stepped out, tall and resolute, his presence commanding even in the storm brewing around him. His eyes met his daughter’s first—softening, briefly. Then they found mine, and something unreadable passed between us.

He knew.

He was going to say it.

And when he did, the world we knew would fracture.