Chapter 55

Chapter 55
Elara’s POV

The walk back from the council chamber felt longer than it should have. My legs were heavy, my throat dry, and every step seemed to echo with the words Elder Rowan had thrown at me. Patrol. Tomorrow. Under Marcus’s eye.

Damian didn’t speak until we reached the packhouse. He pulled me into his office, slammed the door shut, and stood in front of it like he was guarding me from the world. His hands were clenched, his chest rising and falling too fast.

“You should have waited,” he said finally. His voice was low but sharp, like a blade. “You didn’t even think about what you were agreeing to.”

“I thought,” I whispered. My palms were sweating. “I thought about what would happen if I said no. You saw their faces. They were ready to condemn me right there.”

“You could have let me handle it,” Damian shot back. He pressed his palms against the desk, leaning forward. “That’s my job. To protect you. To shield you from them.”

“They don’t trust me because they think you’re shielding me,” I said. My voice cracked but I pushed on. “If I don’t prove myself, if I don’t show them I can stand on my own, then I’ll never belong here. I’ll always be the outsider.”

His eyes softened, but only for a moment. Then he dragged his hands through his hair and turned away. “You don’t understand how dangerous this will be. Marcus won’t hold back. He’ll push you. He’ll make sure every elder hears exactly how you perform.”

“Then let him,” I said, even though my stomach twisted at the thought. “I’ll prove it to him too.”

Damian’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t answer for a long time. When he finally turned back, there was something raw in his eyes. He stepped close, cupped my face in both hands, and pressed his forehead to mine.

“Just come back,” he said. His voice was almost a plea. “I don’t care what happens out there, I don’t care if you stumble, just come back to me.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, because I couldn’t promise anything else.

\---

The night passed in restless pieces. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the council chamber again. Their cold stares. The warning in Rowan’s voice. I wanted to believe my words had been strong enough, but doubt kept creeping in.

When dawn came, I was already awake. I pulled on boots and a plain shirt, my hands clumsy with nerves. In the mirror, my face looked pale, my eyes too wide. I forced myself to breathe slow, steady.

Damian was waiting in the hall. He didn’t speak, just reached out and squeezed my hand once before letting go. His jaw was tight, his eyes shadowed.

Marcus stood at the door, arms crossed. He gave me one long look and then jerked his head toward the forest. “Let’s go.”

No encouragement. No kindness. Just a command.

I followed him out, feeling the weight of invisible eyes on my back. When I glanced up, I saw them — wolves standing on balconies, leaning against railings, gathered at windows. They were watching, all of them. Watching to see if I would fall.

The northern forest loomed ahead, the trees tall and dark, mist curling low around the roots. The patrol path was rough and winding, the kind of trail rogues might use to sneak in.

Marcus walked fast, his shoulders straight. He didn’t look at me. “You’ll keep up. No excuses. If you fall behind, you’ll stay behind. Understand?”

“Yes,” I said, though my throat was dry.

The first hour was nothing but silence and footsteps. Every crack of a branch made my pulse jump. Every rustle of leaves had me turning my head. Marcus noticed. Of course he did.

“You’re too loud,” he said. “You’re giving yourself away with every step.”

I clenched my teeth. “I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t enough,” he shot back. “Out here, rogues don’t care if you’re trying. They’ll gut you before you can open your mouth.”

I bit down on my reply, because anything I said would only sound weak.

We climbed a ridge, the ground damp under our boots. At the top, Marcus stopped and scanned the tree line. His nostrils flared. His shoulders stiffened.

I froze. “What is it?”

He lifted a hand, silencing me. His eyes narrowed. “Rogues.”

My heart hammered. I couldn’t see them, not yet, but I could feel it — the shift in the air, the heavy silence before a storm.

Marcus dropped into a crouch, motioning me down. His voice was a whisper, but it cut like steel. “This is it. You wanted to prove yourself. Now you will.”

The wind shifted then, carrying a scent I recognized all too well. Rot. Ash. Wolves that had abandoned everything but hunger.

The bushes below rustled. Shapes moved between the trees, dark and fast. My palms started to burn, that familiar heat I still hadn’t learned to control. My chest tightened.

Marcus glanced at me, his eyes sharp. “Steady. Don’t lose yourself.”

I nodded, though fear was rising like a flood.

The first rogue broke from the trees, teeth bared, eyes glowing with madness.

And just like that, there was no more waiting.