Chapter 50: The Weight of the Crown

Kael’s words hung in the air like a curse.

Dax was still as stone, his breathing slow and measured. But I knew that look in his eyes. He was right on the edge—one wrong word away from snapping Kael’s neck, consequences be damned.

I tightened my grip on his arm. “Dax.”

He didn’t move.

“Look at me,” I urged.

His jaw clenched, but after a long moment, he finally turned his head. The rage in his eyes was staggering, barely restrained violence simmering beneath the surface. But there was something else, too.

Something raw.

Kael chuckled behind the bars, rubbing his bruised throat. “She’s got you on a leash, huh?”

Dax lunged again, but I moved in front of him, pressing both hands against his chest. “Enough,” I whispered. “You don’t need to prove anything to him.”

His heart pounded beneath my palms, his body a coil of tension. But slowly, his hands fell away from Kael’s throat. He took a step back, exhaling sharply.

Kael smirked. “Smart girl.”

I ignored him, keeping my eyes on Dax. “Come with me.”

He hesitated, but then with one last glare at Kael, he turned and stormed out.

I followed.

Outside, the air was thick with the weight of unspoken words. Dax paced a few steps, running a hand through his hair before turning on me.

“I should have killed the bastard already.” His voice was tight with restraint.

“You still can,” I said evenly. “But not like this. Not when you’re letting him control you.”

His amber eyes flashed. “You think I’m being reckless.”

“I think you’re angry,” I corrected. “And you should be. But Kael wants you to act on it. He wants you to lose control, Dax. Don’t give him what he wants.”

Dax exhaled sharply, looking away.

For a long moment, we just stood there, the distant murmurs of the pack the only sound between us.

Then, finally, his shoulders sagged.

“I hate this,” he admitted, voice lower now.

“I know.”

His gaze flickered to me, something dark and unreadable lingering there. “You should hate it too.”

“I do,” I said softly. “But I’d rather face it with you than without you.”

He studied me for a long moment, then let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not.”

Dax sighed and looked toward the horizon. The sky was still heavy with clouds, as if reflecting the weight pressing down on him.

“Jack is waiting,” he muttered after a moment. “We need to talk about what’s next.”

I nodded. “Then let’s go.”

The war room was already occupied when we arrived. Jack stood at the head of the long table, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Pierce was there too, along with a handful of trusted warriors. The air was thick with tension.

Jack didn’t waste time.

“The Ironfang Pack is fractured,” he said, his gaze shifting between Dax and me. “They’re weakened, but they’re not broken. And we don’t know where their alliances truly lie.”

“They’re buying time,” Pierce muttered. “Trying to make us hesitate.”

Dax leaned against the table, his expression unreadable. “We made our move. Now we wait and see if they make theirs.”

Jack nodded. “And in the meantime?”

Dax’s jaw tightened. “We prepare.”

Jack sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Dax met his father’s gaze evenly. “So do I.”

But something in his voice told me he wasn’t entirely sure.

And that was what scared me the most.

Tension lingered in the war room even after the meeting had ended. Dax remained by the table, fingers tracing absent patterns against the wood, his gaze distant.

I knew better than to push him when he got like this. Instead, I waited, leaning against the doorway, watching the way his shoulders lifted and fell with each slow breath.

Jack had already left, along with Pierce and the others. Now, it was just us.

Finally, Dax exhaled sharply and looked up at me. “They don’t trust me.”

I frowned. “Who?”

“The pack.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “Did you see the way they looked at me when we returned? Like I’m something to be feared. Something unstable.”

I crossed the room slowly, my boots silent against the floor. “They watched you go to war, Dax. They saw what you’re capable of.”

“And now they’re wondering if I can turn it off.”

I stopped in front of him. “Can you?”

His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then, in a voice quieter than I expected, he said, “I don’t know.”

The admission sent a chill down my spine.

Dax was a warrior. A leader. But war changed people. And now, standing here, I realized something terrifying—Dax wasn’t sure where the war ended and he began.

I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. His skin was warm, his grip firm but hesitant. “They don’t fear you,” I said softly. “They fear what happens next.”

His jaw clenched. “And if I can’t give them an answer?”

“Then you find one.” I squeezed his hand. “But you don’t do it alone.”

Something flickered across his face—an emotion too quick to name. Then, with a slow exhale, he nodded.

“Come on,” I said, tugging him toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t resist.

Outside, the storm clouds still lingered, but the wind had shifted, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine through the air. The training grounds were active, warriors moving through drills with sharp precision. Conversations hushed as Dax and I passed, eyes flickering toward him before darting away.

He noticed.

He always noticed.

We stopped at the edge of the training ring, watching as a group of younger wolves sparred under the watchful eye of one of the senior warriors.

“They need to see you,” I murmured.

Dax’s brow furrowed. “They see me.”

“No.” I turned to him. “They need to see you lead. Not just fight.”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue, but then, as he glanced back at the warriors, something in his expression shifted.

Without a word, he stepped forward.

The sparring wolves straightened immediately as he approached, their movements stiffening under his scrutiny. Dax didn’t speak at first—just watched. Then, in a smooth, measured tone, he said, “Again.”

The fight resumed, but now, Dax was moving through them, correcting stances, adjusting grips, offering quiet but firm instruction. And just like that, the tension in the air shifted.

They weren’t just afraid of him anymore.

They were listening.

I smiled.

Maybe he couldn’t turn it off. But he could learn to control it.

And that? That was the difference between a warrior and a leader.