Chapter 90

Chapter 90
Nephele's POV

I'd been pacing the guest quarters at Stormfang for two hours, checking my phone every thirty seconds like it would somehow make Kaedan's meeting end faster.

Gregory sat at the window, staring out at the pack grounds with carefully controlled tension. His hands rested steady on his knees, but I could see the white knuckles, the way he held himself too still—like movement might shatter whatever composure he'd managed to gather.

"You don't have to pretend you're not terrified," I said softly, finally stopping my relentless circuit around the room.

"I'm not terrified," he replied, his voice carefully neutral. Then, after a pause: "I'm fucking petrified."

Through the mate bond, I could feel echoes of Kaedan's stress—sharp spikes of tension, the cold burn of his ice powers activating. Whatever was happening in that meeting, it wasn't going smoothly.

"Six Alphas deciding whether I'm worth the political risk," Gregory continued, still looking out the window. "Whether a wolfless man deserves a chance to prove himself, or whether I'm just another liability threatening alliance stability."

"You're not—"

"I might be, though." He turned from the window, meeting my eyes with a directness that reminded me of the man he truly was beneath all the trauma. "What if they're right? What if appointing me really would destabilize the northern alliance? What if Kaedan's judgment is compromised because of his feelings for you?"

The questions hung in the air like accusations I couldn't refute.

"Gregory," I said, settling into the chair across from him. "You keep saying you're not enough, but look at what you've already accomplished. You broke free from Ophelia's control. You helped save me. You're sitting here planning a future instead of just surviving day to day."

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Those were survival responses. Breaking free, helping you—that was desperation, not leadership. I'm still just... ordinary. Without magic, without shifting, without the supernatural advantages everyone else takes for granted."

"You survived twenty-two years of hell without breaking."

"Survival isn't leadership. And it sure as hell isn't teaching." He rubbed his temples, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "What if I get someone killed because I missed something? What if my methods don't work for people who can actually shift? What if—"

"What if you save lives because you know how to fight when everything else fails?" I interrupted. "What if your experience gives warriors exactly the edge they need when their supernatural abilities are stripped away?"

He was quiet for a moment, processing my words. I pressed my hand to my chest where the mate bond felt strongest.

"I can feel him," I said quietly. "Through our bond. He's... stressed. Really stressed."

"Because he's defending an indefensible position?"

"Because he believes in you and he's watching politicians try to reduce your worth to a simple yes-or-no vote."

Gregory was quiet for a moment, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap.

"Look at them," he said finally, nodding toward the training grounds where pack members were running drills. "See how they move? The confidence, the power, the way they shift seamlessly between human and wolf forms? That's what they expect from their instructors. That's the standard I'm supposed to meet."

I joined him at the window, watching Stormfang warriors practice combat formations. They were impressive—fluid, powerful, clearly comfortable in their supernatural abilities.

"Now look closer," I said. "Watch their technique when they're in human."

Gregory frowned, studying the training session more carefully. After a few minutes, his expression shifted.

"They're relying on wolf instincts even in human," he observed. "Aggressive, straightforward attacks. Not much tactical thinking."

"And when one of them gets injured?"

We watched as a warrior took a hard hit and stumbled, temporarily dazed. His immediate response was to try shifting, to call on his wolf for healing and strength.

"He's vulnerable," Gregory said slowly. "If something prevented him from shifting..."

"He'd be in trouble," I finished. "That's what Kaedan means. They need someone who knows how to fight smart when power fails. Someone who's had to think three steps ahead just to survive."

A knock at the door interrupted our conversation. Beta Rook entered, his expression carefully neutral but tense.

"Any word?" I asked immediately.

"The meeting's still ongoing," Rook said. "But I wanted to check on you both. I know waiting is..."

"Hell," Gregory said with a bitter laugh. "Pure hell."

Rook's mouth quirked in sympathy. "Honestly? I think Alpha Kaedan's right about this. Your training ideas were solid. Practical stuff that could actually save lives."

"You've seen my work?" Gregory asked, surprise in his voice.

"Alpha Kaedan showed your combat training outline to the senior staff. We all agreed it filled gaps in our current program." Rook paused. "The pack members are curious about you, Gregory. Not suspicious—curious. They want to know what someone who survived what you did might be able to teach them."

I felt a flicker of hope—not from Kaedan through the bond, but from Gregory himself. For the first time since we'd arrived, he looked less like a man awaiting execution and more like someone considering possibilities.

"Really?" Gregory asked.

"Really. Zara—she's one of our senior warriors—asked specifically about fighting while injured. Said she's taken hits that temporarily messed with her ability to shift, and it scared the hell out of her." Rook leaned against the doorframe. "You're not just offering to teach what they already know, Gregory. You're offering to teach what they need to learn."

Through the mate bond, I felt another surge of tension from Kaedan, this one mixed with something that might have been hope.

"The meeting's reaching a decision point," I said, pressing my hand to my chest where the bond felt strongest.

Rook straightened. "How can you tell?"

"The emotions are getting more intense. More focused." I looked at Gregory. "Whatever happens, you've already proven your worth. To Kaedan, to me, to the pack members who've taken the time to understand what you offer."

"And if the politics don't care about any of that?" Gregory asked.

Another wave through the bond—sharp, cold determination mixed with protective fury. Kaedan was making his stand.

"Then we figure out what comes next," I said firmly. "Together. Whatever the decision, we face it as family."

Gregory nodded, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Together."

My phone buzzed with a text from Kaedan: [It's over. On my way back.]

No details. No indication of success or failure. Just the promise that he was coming home.

"He's done," I said, showing Gregory the message.

"And?" Rook asked.

"I guess we're about to find out."

Through the mate bond, Kaedan's emotions were all over the place—exhaustion, relief, frustration, and something else I couldn't pin down. It felt like he'd gotten something, but not everything he'd wanted.

Whatever had happened in that meeting, it wasn't a clear yes or no.

"Well," Rook said, glancing between Gregory and me. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

The three of us sat in tense silence, waiting for Kaedan to come back with whatever news would decide Gregory's future.