Chapter 115
The council chamber felt like a pressure cooker ready to blow. Word had spread like wildfire through the pack—Sebastian calling for the blood test, Brittany's furious denials, the elders summoned at dawn. By the time the doors creaked open under the gray morning sky, the place was jammed. Betas crammed shoulder to shoulder with gammas, omegas peeking from the edges, even a few pups who'd snuck in wide-eyed. The air stank of sweat and tension, thick enough to choke on. Whispers buzzed like angry bees: "Is the heir not his?" "Brittany's lies catching up?" "What about Rhianna?"
Sebastian stood at the center dais, face like carved granite, holding little Rowan in one arm. The boy was barely a year old, chubby cheeks and dark curls, oblivious to the storm swirling around him. Alden hovered nearby, tools laid out on a low table: vials, needles, strips of parchment soaked in some herbal concoction that would reveal the blood truth. The elders sat in their semicircle— Mara stone-faced, Cavan frowning, Elias sneering, Thorne silent in the shadows, Lira watching everything with those sharp eyes.
Brittany burst in last, cloak askew, hair wild. She marched straight to Sebastian, eyes blazing. "You can't do this. Not here. Not in front of them all."
"I already am," Sebastian growled. The pack hushed. He handed Rowan to Alden gently, like the boy was glass. "It's done. No more waiting."
Alden worked quick—prick to Sebastian's finger, drop of blood on the parchment. Then Rowan's tiny heel, a wail that pierced the room. Brittany lunged forward, but two betas held her back. "Stop! You're hurting him!"
The parchment shifted colors under Alden's mutterings—red for Sebastian's line, blue for the bond. The pack leaned in, breaths held. Alden's face paled as the strips settled: Sebastian's red, stark and alone. Rowan's? A muddy green, foreign, no match.
The room exploded.
"Not his!" someone shouted from the back. Growls rippled through the betas. An omega gasped. Elias shot to his feet. "Treason! The heir's a fraud!"
Sebastian stared at the parchment, world tilting. His voice came out hollow. "Whose is he?"
Brittany wrenched free from the betas, face twisted in fury and fear. "Yours! It has to be— the test is wrong. Alden's herbs are old. Or Rhianna tampered—"
"Liar!" A gamma snarled. The pack surged forward, voices overlapping in a chaotic roar. "She tricked the Alpha!" "Banish her!" "What about the child?"
Sebastian rounded on her, eyes flashing wolf-gold. "Whose. Is. He?"
Brittany backed up a step, but her chin lifted. Defiant. "You want the truth? Fine. But I'm not going down alone. I didn't do this by myself. There were others. People who wanted Rhianna gone, who wanted the pack 'strong.' I was just the hand. The real puppet master—"
She turned, finger jabbing toward the elders. "It was—"
An arrow whistled through the air—sharp, unseen. It struck her square in the chest, punching through cloak and flesh with a wet thud. Brittany's eyes went wide. She clutched at the shaft, blood blooming dark on her shirt. The room froze for a heartbeat.
Then chaos erupted for real.
Screams ripped through the chamber. Wolves shifted halfway, claws out, snarling. "Archer!" "Hunters!" Betas charged the doors, gammas shielding the pups. Sebastian lunged for Brittany as she crumpled, catching her before she hit the stone. "Brittany— no—"
She gasped, blood bubbling on her lips. Her hand grabbed his collar weakly. "The elder...... he..." Her eyes glazed. Body went limp.
Dead.
The pack howled in confusion. Elders scattered—Mara barking orders, Cavan scanning the rafters for the shooter. Thorne slipped back into shadows, face unreadable. Alden dropped to his knees beside Sebastian, checking for pulse. "Gone. Arrow's poisoned—silver tip."
Sebastian rocked back, Brittany's blood on his hands, Rowan crying forgotten in the corner. The chamber doors burst open—more wolves pouring in, drawn by the noise. Fights broke out in the corners—accusations flying. "She deserved it!" "Who shot her?" "Rhianna's revenge!"
Outside, the clearing turned to pandemonium. Wolves running, shifting, sniffing for the archer's trail. No one found it. The arrow had come from nowhere—high window? Hidden perch? Gone like smoke.
Sebastian sat there amid the storm, staring at her body. The pack swirled around him, a whirlwind of fury and fear. Everything shattered in one morning.
The healer's hut was a fragile bubble of quiet amid the pack's uproar. Outside, voices still rose and fell—searches for the archer, arguments over Brittany's last words, elders in closed sessions. Rhianna sat on the edge of Hardin's bed, knees drawn up, staring at the floorboards like they held answers. Her hands twisted in her lap, knuckles white. The news had hit her like a gut punch when Alden burst in, breathless, spilling the details.
Brittany dead. Arrow to the heart. Mid-sentence, cut off before she could finish whatever accusation she was about to make.
Rhianna hadn't moved much since. Hardin watched her from his pillows, bandages fresh but face drawn. He'd tried to sit up when Alden left, but she'd pushed him back gently. Now the silence stretched, broken only by the distant howls.
"Rhianna," Hardin said softly. "Talk to me."
She shook her head once. "I didn't want this."
"Want what?"
"Her dead." Rhianna's voice was small, cracked. "I just wanted proof. The river. The men. Evidence so the pack would see, so she'd face justice—banishment, maybe. Not this. Not an arrow in front of everyone. Not blood on the stones."
Hardin reached for her hand. She let him take it, but her fingers stayed limp. "It's not your fault."
"Isn't it?" She looked up then, eyes wet but fierce. "I came back. I accused her. I pushed for the two days. If I'd stayed gone—"
"You'd be married to some prince, collared and forgotten." His grip tightened. "No. You fought to come home. To remember. That's not on you."
Rhianna pulled her hand free, stood up abruptly. Paced the small room—three steps to the hearth, three back. "She was about to name someone. Right there. Finger pointing toward the elders' bench, mouth open, ready to say it. And then—dead. Like someone silenced her before the words could come out. Who? Hunters? Someone inside the pack? And now everything's tearing apart. Sebastian's broken. The child's without a mother. I didn't want death. I wanted truth."
Hardin watched her, pain flickering across his face—not just from the lashes. "Truth has teeth sometimes. It bites. But Brittany chose her path. She sent those men after you. She framed me. She lied about the heir. Whatever she was tangled in, whoever she was about to point at—she was part of it. Her choices led here, not yours."
Rhianna stopped pacing, leaned against the wall. "I keep seeing it in my head. The arrow. Her falling. Blood. And Sebastian—gods, the look on his face when Alden told me. Like part of him died too."
"He chose her once." Hardin's voice was quiet. "Loved her, or thought he did. But that doesn't make this your doing."
She slid down the wall, sat on the floor, head in hands. "I just wanted to come home. Find my name. My place. Not start a war."
Hardin swung his legs over the bed's edge, wincing but ignoring it. He lowered himself to the floor beside her, shoulder to shoulder. "You didn't start it. You survived it. That's strength, Rhianna. The pack needs that now more than ever. With Brittany gone, and whatever she was about to reveal cut short—this could still expose the rot. The elders are scrambling. Questions are flying. We don't know who she was going to name, but the fact that someone made sure she couldn't say it... that's the real crack in the foundation."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "What if it's too much? What if the pack breaks?"
"Then we rebuild." He wrapped an arm around her, careful of his back. "Together. You and me. Sebastian too, if he can pull himself up. The pack's tough. We've faced hunters, losses, storms. This? It's ugly, but we'll heal."
Rhianna closed her eyes. "I didn't want her dead."
"I know." He kissed the top of her head. "And that's why it's not your fault. You wanted justice, not vengeance. That's the difference."
They sat like that as the morning dragged into afternoon. Outside, the chaos simmered—searches widening, elders convening in hushed, urgent tones. But in the hut, it was just them. Breathing. Holding on.
Rhianna finally stirred. "What now?"
Hardin squeezed her shoulder. "We wait for the elders to sort through the mess. You still gather your proof—riverbank tomorrow. We keep moving forward. Whoever silenced her... they'll slip up eventually. And we'll be there when they do."
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
He helped her up, both of them stiff. Back on the bed, he pulled her down beside him. "Rest. Just for a bit."
She curled against him. "Yeah."