Chapter 16 – Watchful Eyes
Jace
The night air is sharp, biting through my jacket like frozen knives as I lean against the lodge's railing.
Below, the clearing hums with low conversation. Wolves moving like shadows between the cabins, their voices a constant murmur of pack politics and territorial disputes.
My eyes track one shadow in particular. He’s stacking the last of the crates, shoulders tight as a coiled spring, movements clipped and precise.
He's still rattled from being hauled before the council. I can smell it on him, sharp and bitter, like a fox backed into a corner with nowhere left to run.
I rub a hand over my jaw, the old scar at my chin pulling tight. A reminder of the night I earned my place at Ronan's side.
Ronan was right to bring him in, even if the council hates it with every fiber of their being.
An omega marked by the Alpha means less trouble from rival packs, not more. Protection through possession.
But looking at him now, watching the way he flinches at every sound, I can't shake the thought.
He's not built for this. Not for Blackthorn's brutality. Not for Ronan's darkness.
The kid doesn't know what he's walked into. What Ronan really is beneath the careful control.
A low whistle carries from near the truck, cutting through my thoughts like a blade.
A younger wolf leans on a crate, smirking at Eli with the kind of predatory interest that makes my teeth ache.
My hands curl into fists before I can stop them, knuckles cracking in the cold. I step forward, ready to put the kid in the dirt if he so much as breathes wrong, but Eli doesn't need me.
He's fast. Too fast for someone supposedly broken. Grabbing the front of the kid's shirt and shoving him back hard enough that wood splinters.
My heart kicks against my ribs. Stupid. Brave, but stupid. The kind of move that gets throats torn out in places like this.
I'm there in three strides, yanking Eli back before claws come out and blood paints the snow.
The kid sneers but backs down under my glare, recognizing the promise of violence in my stance. I watch him slink away, hackles still raised, before I turn to Eli.
His eyes burn with something raw. Rage, shame, old ghosts clawing at his sanity.
For a second I see a flash of what Ronan sees. Pride disguised as surrender, unbreakable will hidden in breakable flesh.
Eli glares at me with eyes that have seen too much, but he grabs another crate after my little pep talk.
Ronan would tear this camp apart if anyone marked Eli wrong.
That's the problem. Ronan's obsession is written in every move he makes around the omega, every look he gives him in the council room, every growl when another wolf strays too close.
I've seen Alphas lose themselves to desire before, watched them burn their own packs to ash for the sake of a mate.
And the rut… it's coming. I can smell the edge of it on him already, hot and sharp. When it hits, there won't be any reasoning with him.
I've been his second for seven years.
Seven years of watching him build this pack from nothing, of following him through blood and fire, of cleaning up the messes his darker impulses leave behind.
But this feels different. Dangerous in a way that makes my wolf pace restlessly beneath my skin.
I glance back toward the lodge, to the window where I know Ronan's probably watching.
He's always watching now, like a snake coiled to strike when the moment’s right.
The light spills golden across the snow, and I catch the shadow of his silhouette. Rigid, focused, hungry. My stomach clenches.
For the first time in seven years, I feel a prickle of doubt crawling up my spine.
Because when it comes to this omega, my Alpha isn't thinking like a leader. He's thinking like a wolf with his teeth sunk in deep, and wolves don't let go.
They tear until there's nothing left.
I stay until Eli finishes, watching the dark beyond the border, listening to the wind rattle the bones like wind chimes made of death.
Eli's movements are mechanical now. He’s obviously exhausted, but he doesn't stop. Doesn't complain. There's steel in him, buried deep beneath the fear.
I wonder how long it will be before something gives. Before the pressure building in this place explodes and takes us all down with it.
The thought follows me inside, cold as the wind that howls through the trees.