Chapter 5 NO BETTER OPTIONS
Kael's POV
The council chamber was thick with silence. Eyes on me burned with judgment—the sort that made even an Alpha's marrow shudder.
"He's human," Elder Thalos snarled, his tone stone. "You can't seriously expect the pack to obey a man who sleeps with a human. A pathetic one at that.".
I stood with my fingers entwined behind me in an attempt to steady them. "He's not weak."
"Oh?" Another elder sneered. "The boy fainted when he laid eyes on you. We had to hold him to the healer's chambers. If that's not weakness, I don't know what is."
A murmur of agreement spread among the half-circle of silver-haired men and women who had once vowed loyalty to my father—and now looked at me as if I were the mistake the Moon Goddess had not bothered to wipe out.
My wolf, Ryn growled deep inside my head, restless, protecting. They slight him once more and I'll make them regret they ever chose to stand against me.
Not now, I warned silently. They'll hear us if we protest.
But peace was a thin thread stretched over the chasm of their contempt.
Elder Vanya leaned forward, her silver braid reflecting the firelight. "Kael, you're young. You think love is enough reason for rebellion. But the pack must see strength. They must see an Alpha who can protect us—not some lovesick brat bringing home some breakable plaything."
My temper shattered. "He is not a plaything. He is my mate."
The word mate echoed across the room, thick with godly meaning. Even the torches flickered dim at it. To wolves, it was law. Destiny. The word of the Moon Goddess written in blood and bone.
But even that could not soften their faces.
"Perhaps the Goddess made a mistake," Thalos growled. "Humans have no place among us.".
I slammed my hand on the table with all the strength in me to break the wood. "Do you have the audacity to say the Goddess erred?"
The older man flinched but did not waver. "I say perhaps you erred and misinterpreted her will. A human cannot bear your mark, Kael. You know what happens when an Alpha bonds with something that cannot shift, cannot heal, cannot stay by his side."
"He's mine," I ground out. "And that's final."
"Then you will lose everything," Vanya warned. "The pack's trust. The council's approval. Our allies. You'll destroy Blood Moon in ashes."
Their words faded, drowned by the pounding in my head. For a moment, I could picture Adam's face—not the terror of last night, but the gentle, hurt boy who'd stared at the ceiling when he didn't think anyone noticed.
He'd been broken long before I'd acquired him. I could still remember the hard, sharp tone of his father, calling him worthless. That was never his role, I'd told myself repeatedly. I'd only take what was already given up.
The council wasn't concerned with cruelty, however. They were concerned with traditions, bloodlines, and power.
"You'll bring him back," Thalos finally said. "Let him live his mortal life until he's ready to accept you—if ever. But this. attachment will eat away at both you."
"I won't leave him with those people who torture him," I replied, trembling. "I witnessed what they did to him."
Vanya's face went a little softer. "Then keep him at a distance. But holding onto him, forcing him to conform to a world he doesn't know, will only breed bitterness. Let him choose."
"Let him reject me, you mean," I drew in my breath in distaste.
She did not otherwise.
I spun about and left the room before they could glimpse the rage twisting my face. The door slammed shut behind me, rumbling like thunder through the halls.
Adam was awake when I entered the guest room. He lay on the bed, head fallen forward, eyes distant. The sun shining in through the window wrapped him in light and shadow—a vision that saw something deep inside me ache in ways no war injury ever had.
He no longer seemed afraid. Just exhausted. As if he'd carried sorrow longer than I'd existed.
"Hey," I whispered. My voice sounded foreign in my own throat. "You don't need to be so serious. I promise it won't be this way forever."
His eyes lifted, his expression solidifying with incredulity. "Like what? You kidnapped me. You think kidnapping me fixes everything?"
I took one step forward, and then stopped myself. He winced at the nearness as if it burned. "I know it's a lot. You don't know you, you don't know what this is. But I couldn't leave you there. I saw them give you those pills—Adam, what were they even doing to you?"
Silence. He turned his face away from me. I sensed the wall he built between us, brick by brick. My wolf whined in my mind, confused. He's ours. Why does he see us as monsters?
Because we are, I found myself thinking aloud.
Finally, frustration snapped through me. "What do you want me to do?" I snapped. "Tell me."
He stared straight at me, dark-glass eyes. "Leave me alone."
Words are sharper than any blade. I couldn't breathe for one single second. But even so, I dropped to my knees before him—because Alphas might rule packs, but mates ruled hearts.
"Something. Anything you do will make me hate you less. Why can't you just give in?"
He gave a short, hard laugh. "If I don't want to be your mate—if I don't want any of this—what do I do? Is there a ritual? A way of turning you down?"
I could see the blood draining from my face. "You'd have to turn me down," I said uncertainly. "But… I think you don't actually want that.".
“How do I reject you?” he pressed, eyes burning. The cruelty wasn’t in the question—it was in the desperation behind it.
I couldn't answer. I told him instead, the truth that made me small. "I became pack leader at nineteen. Alone. I didn't need anyone. But then you—" I broke off, voice cracking. "You were a spark in a world that had lost its fire. I thought… the Goddess sent you now to tell me I could feel again."
He turned his head aside, lips trembling. For the time of a heartbeat, I thought I saw a crack in the armor.
Then it shut up.
He said softly, "Take me home."
I stood frozen.
"Please," he whispered. "Take me home. If you take me home now, I'll… I'll think about it. I just want my life back.".
I'd never heard him beg before. I ought to have said no. I ought to have said that home was a cage and his family were the bars. But hearing that one word—please—was my ruin.
"Okay," I croaked. "But I'm not leaving you there."
We left while the sun was still up. The woods whispered around us, foggy with memory. Adam had no words. He kept pace beside me with his arms folded hard across his chest. Every step further into his world as a human was like a screw turning in tighter.
We proceeded to the edge of the clearing, and his home stood ahead—small, weathered, still carrying the aroma of the world I'd pulled him out of.
He stopped.
"You saw me," he blurted suddenly, gesturing toward the heavy underbrush against the fence. "From there."
I didn't argue with him. "Yes."
I barely had time to answer before there came the sound of voices from within the house—angry, raw, human. The snarl of a man, the whisper of a woman. Then laughter, cold and cruel.
"Good riddance," the man declared. "Perhaps the brat will turn up dead somewhere."
Adam stilled. His breath snagged like a wounded thing. I reacted instinctively, my arm going around his waist. He flinched but didn't pull away at once.
"You don't need to hear that," I whispered. I wanted to bring down the walls, to make them feel the pain they'd caused. But I didn't stir, because this was about truth.
He whirled to face me. His eyes sparkled with something unrecognizable—pain, shock, rage.
"You think you're rescuing me?" he spoke in a quivering voice. "You think you can stop it by rescuing me?"
"I think I can give you a choice," I spoke gently. "That's something."
He stared at me for a stiff moment. Then his eyes turned cold. The porch light drew silver lines on his cheeks, and when he said it, it was a knife in my heart.
"I reject you.”
My heart scattered.