Chapter Forty-Seven: Carol's POV
The elders were already seated, their expressions ranging from skeptical to openly hostile.
Thornton sat at the head of the table, his face set in disapproving lines.
Vasquez was three seats down, her sharp eyes tracking my every movement.
The others filled in between them, forming the structure of this pack's hierarchy.
I walked to the center of the room and placed the document on the table in front of Thornton. "Elder Thornton. Council members. As you know, Alpha Volkov was gravely injured in the southern border attack. Before departure, he signed this emergency authorization, designating me to coordinate household affairs in the event of his incapacitation."
Thornton didn't even look at the document.
He pushed it back across the table toward me with one finger, the gesture dismissive and deliberate.
"We'll wait until Simon wakes up," he said. "The pack has managed for three days without a leader. We can manage a few more."
Around the table, several elders nodded.
One by one, they pushed the document back toward me.
Some did it subtly, a slight shift of their hands. Others made it obvious, the scrape of paper against wood loud in the silent room.
I stood there, the authorization document rejected and returned, and felt heat crawl up my neck and into my face.
Not from shame—I had nothing to be ashamed of.
But from realizing that to these people, Simon's signature, his explicit instruction, meant nothing if they didn't want it to.
I didn't pick up the document. I didn't argue.
I just stood there, letting them see that their rejection hadn't made me run from the room.
If they wanted to ignore Simon's orders, that was their choice.
But I wasn't going to make it easy for them.
The silence stretched. Finally, Thornton cleared his throat, clearly expecting me to leave. When I didn't move, irritation flickered across his face.
"Was there something else, Miss Valodin?"
The formality stung—he deliberately used the formal address, as if I were some distant relative paying a courtesy call.
"Just clarifying the council's position," I said evenly. "You're choosing to disregard Alpha Volkov's explicit written instruction."
"We're simply waiting for him to wake up and personally confirm his wishes," Thornton said. "Given the... special nature of your relationship with the pack, I'm sure you understand our caution."
Before I could respond, another elder spoke up.
Sanford, a man I'd seen maybe two or three times in eight years, leaned forward.
"Since we're discussing leadership, there's another matter. The Blackwood family has contacted us recently. They've expressed concern and offered assistance during this difficult time."
I felt the room's energy shift. Several elders sat up straighter, interest sparking.
"The Blackwood family," Sanford continued, "has extensive resources and connections. While Simon recovers, they could help stabilize our position. Rather than entrusting pack affairs to... someone without even a wolf soul, perhaps we should consider allying with a family that truly understands our ways."
Murmurs rippled around the table.
Heads turned to each other, low conversations starting. I caught fragments—"Blackwood connections," "proper wolf lineage," "more appropriate."
Thornton didn't shut down the suggestion. If anything, he looked thoughtful, stroking his chin. That was all the encouragement needed. The whispers grew louder, more animated.
Then Vasquez raised her hand, and the room fell silent.
"With respect, Elder Sanford," she said pleasantly but with an edge of steel, "I believe you've forgotten history. The Blackwood family has absorbed three East Coast packs over the past decade. They don't offer assistance. They offer takeovers."
She paused, letting that sink in. "Anyone in this room who seriously thinks we should invite them in during our weakness might as well hand them the keys to our territory directly."
The whispers stopped. Several elders who'd been leaning forward now sat back, faces carefully neutral.
Sanford opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly reassessing.
"The Blackwoods are vultures," Vasquez said flatly. "I won't watch this pack become their next meal because we were too proud to refuse our Alpha's written orders out of pride." She looked at the rejected authorization document. "Simon knew what he was doing when he signed that. He always does."
Thornton's jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought he might argue. Then he stood.
"This meeting is adjourned," he announced. "We'll reconvene when Simon wakes."
The elders began filing out, some still muttering to each other, others pointedly avoiding my gaze. Vasquez passed by me, and her hand briefly touched my shoulder—contact that somehow felt like acknowledgment.
Then they were all gone. I was alone in the council chamber with a document they'd refused to accept, crushing weight of what I'd just witnessed pressing down on me.
These people, the leaders of the pack Simon had built and protected, were already looking for ways around him.
Already positioning for a future where he might not wake up.
I collected the authorization document, carefully folding it, and walked out into the hallway.
Belinda and Seraphina were waiting there.
They stood near the tall windows overlooking the gardens, Belinda in a cream-colored suit, her dark hair swept into an elegant chignon.
Seraphina stood beside her like a matching accessory, equally polished, equally false.
"Carol," Belinda said. "I heard about the council meeting. Such a shame they didn't accept poor Simon's little document."
I should have kept walking. Should have brushed past them both and gone back to the hospital, back to Simon's side where I belonged.
But something in Belinda's tone, that smugness that had haunted my childhood, made me stop.
"What are you doing here, Belinda?"
"Visiting family." She smiled. "Simon may not be blood, but we were connected once. That creates certain... bonds."
"You haven't visited Simon in eight years," I said. "Not once. Not until he was unconscious and couldn't throw you out himself."
Belinda's smile didn't falter. "Things change, dear. Circumstances evolve. Sometimes old connections become relevant again." She exchanged a look with Seraphina. "Especially when leadership becomes uncertain."
The pieces clicked together in my mind.
The sudden appearance at the hospital, perfectly timed. The council's resistance to the authorization document. The Blackwood suggestion appearing out of nowhere.
"You're positioning yourself," I said. "Making sure people remember you have a connection to the Valodin name, just in case—"
"Just in case what?" Belinda interrupted, her tone sharpening. "Just in case the great Simon Volkov doesn't wake up? Just in case the pack needs actual leadership instead of a human girl playing pretend?"
Seraphina laughed. "Face it, Carol. Though you carry Osmon's blood, that half-human heritage means you'll never truly be accepted. Simon took pity on you,perhaps out of guilt toward his fallen comrade—gave you a place to sleep and food to eat, but that doesn't make you one of us. A half-breed who can't awaken never will."
"When he wakes up—" I started, but Seraphina cut me off.
"If he wakes up," she said gleefully. "The way I hear it, silver poisoning that severe... well, even Alphas aren't invincible. And when he's gone, all those protections he built around you disappear. No more special treatment. No more pretending you belong here."
The warmth I'd felt earlier, that strange power settled in my chest, stirred.
I recognized the sensation now. My ability, responding to my anger, to my need to know the truth.
I shouldn't use it. I knew I shouldn't.
Using my ability on pack members, especially in the pack house itself, was asking for trouble.
But looking at Seraphina's smug face, at Belinda's calculating eyes, I couldn't stop myself.
I looked into Seraphina's eyes, and her pupils dilated, her posture shifted subtly.
Her wolf behind her might be stronger than what was inside me, but this power didn't care about wolf hierarchies.
"Seraphina," I said quietly, "did you go see Simon in the hospital for any particular reason?"
She blinked, trying to resist, but her mouth was already opening. "Father sent me. He wanted me to check on Simon's condition. To see if—"
Belinda's head whipped around. "Seraphina, don't—"
But Seraphina kept talking. "To see if Simon was going to wake up. Because if he doesn't, if the pack starts falling apart, Father said he could—"