Chapter 253 Council: Zoey's POV

Chapter 253 Council: Zoey's POV
The heavy pine timber gates of the main fortress swung open into the dark.

It was past midnight when our column reached the upper plateau. Torchlight flickered along the high stone walls, casting long amber shadows across the snow-covered courtyard. Fifty pack members stood waiting in the freezing wind, wrapped in heavy furs and wool cloaks.

When they saw the forty captured steppe chargers marching behind our supply wagons, a low murmur ran through the crowd.

"They brought back the horses," a woman whispered near the timber gate. "Vane’s own mounts."

"And no war party behind them," an old scout muttered, his eyes wide as he stared at the red hawk emblem on the captured iron shields.

Klaus dismounted from his grey stallion in the center of the square. His heavy boots hit the hard-packed dirt with a dull, solid thud.
He didn't say a word to the gathering crowd. He simply unbuckled the iron broadsword scabbard from his hip and handed it to Bram.

I slid off my mount beside him, unstringing my short bow and slinging it across my back. Under my wool tunic, the silver signet ring hung solid and cold against my chest.
Through our blood bond, I felt Klaus’s pulse—a heavy, unyielding rhythm that matched the cold stone under our boots.

Elder Kenneth stepped out from the main timber hall.

Beside him stood three older pack leaders: Elder Silas of the western crags, Elder Vane of the lower timber mills, and Elder Maeve of the high pass.
They were old wolves with grey hair, lined faces, and eyes that had seen forty winters of bloodshed. None of them wore iron armor. They wore thick grey wool, their hands tucked into their sleeves against the frost.

"Klaus," Kenneth said, his staff tapping against the icy cobblestones. "The scouts said you took eighty men into the eastern pass. We heard the roar of black powder four miles south."

"Vane's supply camp is ash," Klaus said, his voice low, flat, and absolute. "His powder wagons are destroyed. And Vane lies at the bottom of the Red River with his throat split."

The crowd went dead silent.

Elder Silas narrowed his small, dark eyes. He took a slow step forward, looking past Klaus at the forty weary warriors standing in formation behind the wagons.

"Vane commanded three thousand heavy riders on the plains," Silas said, his voice raspy and full of old doubt.
"If his captains rally the eastern tribes, they will march on the Red River before the spring thaw. We cannot hold a war on two fronts, Klaus. The southern lords are still watching the Iron Citadel."

"The eastern captains won't rally," I said, stepping up to Klaus's left side.

Silas turned his sharp gaze onto me. "The Luna speaks of steppe warlords as if she knows their blood."

"I know how warlords hunt," I said, my voice cold as mountain ice. "Vane kept his captains under his heel with fear and silver. We took his silver.
Klaus threw his body to the fish. The remaining riders are fighting each other for his command right now on the open plains. They aren't thinking about these mountains."

Elder Maeve leaned forward on her polished wooden cane, her sharp eyes fixing on the silver signet ring on my left hand.

"You left thirty spearmen at the Red River gatehouse," Maeve said, her voice dry as dead pine needles.
"That leaves forty men to guard this fortress. If a storm hits the upper pass, we are cut off from the south."

"Valerius holds the Red River," Klaus answered, taking a heavy step toward the four elders. His massive frame shadowed the torchlight, his dark eyes burning into Silas's face.
"The southern garrison holds the Iron Citadel. The North Pack is no longer hiding in these crags waiting for southern lords to starve us out. We own the pass, the river, and the valley."

Silas held Klaus’s glare for three long seconds before lowering his eyes to the dirt.

"The elders council did not vote to expand the eastern border," Silas grumbled, though his voice had lost its sharp edge.

Klaus stepped right into the old man's space. The raw, suffocating Alpha pressure radiating off him was heavy enough to make the recruits behind us hold their breath.

"The council votes on grain distribution and timber rights," Klaus growled into Silas's face, his tone dripping with iron authority.
"I vote on blood. If any elder thinks he can hold the Red River with a wooden staff and dry speeches, step out into the square and take my blade."

No one moved.

The silence in the courtyard was absolute. Even the horses stopped stomping their hooves in the slush. Silas swallowed hard, his jaw working as he pulled his hands deeper into his grey wool sleeves.

Elder Kenneth stepped between them, raising his staff.

"The Alpha has spoken," Kenneth declared, his loud voice breaking the tension. "The bloodline holds the high seat. The eastern border is sealed."

Kenneth turned his white head toward the crowd. "Bring hot stew and dried meat for the warriors! Clear the lower stables for the captured mounts!"

The pack snapped into motion. Women and young boys ran to help the weary spearmen unload the wagons, while Bram led the horses toward the timber barns.

Klaus did not relax his shoulders until the elders turned back toward the main timber hall.

He turned his head slowly to look at me. The harsh, lethal lines around his jaw softened, the suffocating Alpha weight melting away into the private warmth of our bond.

"You handled Silas well," he said softly, his broad hand coming up to touch the side of my neck. His thumb brushed against my jaw, rough and warm against the freezing air.

"He's an old wolf who remembers old fears," I said, leaning my cheek into his palm for a quiet second. "He needed to see who rules the mountain."

"They know," Klaus growled, his dark eyes fixed on mine.

He turned toward the high stone quarters at the back of the fortress. The heavy timber door was closed, shut tight against the winter wind, with two burning torches mounted on the stone pillars on either side.

"Come," Klaus said, taking my hand in his, his fingers intertwining tightly with mine. "The guards have the night watch. We rest."

I looked down at our joined hands, feeling the cold silver ring pressing against his broad palm, and the strong, steady beat of his heart echoing in my chest.

"Let's go home," I whispered.

We walked across the quiet, torch-lit courtyard together, leaving the cold wind and the blood of the eastern trail behind us.