Chapter Ninety-five
Chapter Ninety-five
Chapter 95
Brie’s POV
Connor’s death did not arrive like thunder.
It came like rot.
Slow. Silent. Spreading through the marrow of her bones until nothing inside her felt solid anymore.
Brie sat alone in her chambers long after the keep had settled into uneasy quiet. The candles had burned low, wax spilling over the edges of their holders like pale wounds. She had not moved in hours. I had not eaten. I had not slept. Her hands rested uselessly in her lap, fingers stained dark where dried blood still lingered beneath her nails.
Not Connor’s blood.
Edgar’s.
Or perhaps Lia’s.
The distinction no longer mattered.
They said Connor attacked first. They said the Alpha had no choice. They said Luna fought like a beast even without her wolf, that she bled and still stood her ground.
They said many things.
None of them brought Connor back.
Brie’s chest tightened, breath coming shallow as memory surged without permission, Connor as a boy, watching the borders with eyes too sharp for his age, learning to hide his teeth behind obedience. Connor kneels before her, swearing loyalty not to the pack, but to her. Connor standing in the shadows, patient, ironclad, waiting for the moment she promised would come.
She had promised him a crown.
She had promised him justice.
She had promised him Edgar’s fall.
Instead, she had watched him carried out wrapped in cloth like refuse, his face hidden, his name already being scrubbed from the pack’s mouth.
Her lips trembled.
“This wasn’t how it was meant to be,” she whispered to the empty room.
The walls did not answer.
Her thoughts began to slip, one into another, jagged and unmoored. Every sound made her flinch. Every creak of the keep sent her heart racing. She could feel eyes on her even when she was alone, feel judgment crawling over her skin like ants.
They knew.
They all knew.
Brie pushed herself to her feet, swaying. The room tilted, the candle flames stretching unnaturally, bending toward her as though listening.
“They took him,” she said aloud now, louder, her voice sharp with accusation. “They took what was mine.”
A laugh bubbled up, brittle and wrong. “And they expect me to bow?”
She paced, her steps uneven, skirts brushing against furniture she barely registered. Her mind replayed the moment she’d seen Lia after the fight, pale, injured, human. Vulnerable.
And still chosen.
The thought stabbed deeper than any blade.
Human. No wolf. No birthright worth fearing.
And Edgar still stood beside her.
Still looked at her like she was the axis of his world.
Brie’s vision blurred.
“It should have been Connor,” she muttered. “It should have been blood. True blood.”
A knock sounded at the door.
She froze.
The knock came again, firmer this time.
Brie’s heart thundered. For a wild moment, she imagined Connor standing there, whole and breathing, waiting to be let in. The image was so vivid it hurt.
She yanked the door open.
It was not Connor.
Two guards stood stiffly outside, their expressions guarded, uneasy. Behind them, more figures gathered, council members, pack elders, wolves who had once deferred to her without question.
Brie felt something inside her snap.
“So,” she said, smiling too wide. “You’ve come to finish it.”
One of the elders cleared his throat. “Brie, this doesn’t have to—”
“Don’t lie to me,” she cut in. “You never were good at it.”
She stepped past them, into the corridor, her gaze sweeping over the gathered faces. Pity. Fear. Discomfort. Not one of them met her eyes for long.
They were already done with her.
“You think I don’t see it?” she continued, voice rising. “You whisper behind doors. You weigh your loyalties like a coin. One dead boy and suddenly you forget everything he was promised.”
A murmur rippled through the group.
Someone said Connor’s name, cautiously, like it might bite.
Brie laughed again, sharp and cracking. “Say it louder. He deserves that much.”
The guards shifted, hands hovering near their weapons.
“Careful,” she warned softly. “I’ve bled for this pack longer than most of you have lived.”
“And you’ve endangered it,” someone shot back.
She turned, eyes blazing. “By mourning?”
“By conspiring,” another voice said. “By pushing him into a fight he could not win.”
Brie’s breath hitched. “I didn’t push him.”
Silence answered.
Her control frayed completely then.
“You think Edgar didn’t plan this?” she shouted. “You think that woman didn’t bait him? She stripped herself of her wolf just to look harmless. Just to provoke him.”
Her words tumbled faster now, logic unraveling, suspicion feeding on itself. “They knew. They all knew. And now you’re afraid because Luna bleeds like a human and still stands taller than you.”
“That’s enough,” an elder said firmly. “This is exactly why we’re here.”
Brie’s laughter dissolved into something raw and ugly. “You’re afraid of me.”
“Yes,” the elder replied, unflinching. “We are.”
The admission landed like a blow.
They weren’t afraid of her power.
They were afraid of her instability.
Brie staggered back a step. “You can’t exile me.”
“We can,” the elder said. “And we will.”
The word echoed, hollow and final.
Exile.
Not death. Not justice. Erasure.
“You don’t get to decide that,” Brie hissed.
A familiar presence moved through the crowd then, and her heart twisted painfully as Edgar stepped forward. He looked exhausted. Older. His gaze held no triumph, only sorrow and resolve.
“This ends today,” he said quietly. “You will leave before sunset.”
Brie stared at him, something breaking open in her chest. “You owe me,” she said. “You owe my son.”
Edgar’s jaw tightened. “I owe the pack peace.”
She lunged then, not with claws or teeth, but with words sharpened by madness. “She will ruin you,” she spat. “That human girl. She will rot this pack from the inside and you will thank her for it.”
No one moved to stop her as she raved, as grief twisted into prophecy, into venom.
But when she tried to advance again, the guards closed in.
Hands seized her arms.
Brie screamed, not in fear, but fury. The sound tore from her throat, wild and unrestrained, echoing through the stone halls. She thrashed, fighting shadows, fighting memories, fighting a future that had rejected her.
“You’ll regret this!” she cried. “All of you will!”
They dragged her toward the gates as the pack parted around them, eyes averted. The sun burned too bright when they reached the outside, the light cruel and exposing.
At the edge of the territory, they released her.
Brie stumbled, barely catching herself. Her hair had come loose, her cloak torn, her dignity in shreds. She looked back once, at the walls, the banners, the home that no longer wanted her.
Her laughter returned, thin and broken.
“This isn’t over,” she whispered to no one at all.