Chapter 158: 158

The sun has already tilted west when Theon and Bernardo ride into the allied pack’s territory. There's no friendly greeting or warm welcome. Just a wall of silence and cold, measuring stares from the guards at the border post. One of them glances at Bernardo’s crest, then steps aside reluctantly.

Bernardo exhales, almost inaudible. “They’re angry.”

Theon doesn’t respond. His jaw is tight, his hands loose at his sides, but every part of him screams alert. His eyes track everything, the way one of the guards signals to another, how the wind shifts through the trees like it carries something foul with it.

They walk forward without being led. No one offers to guide them. No one offers a damn chair.

When they reach the central hall, a short man with broad shoulders and thick eyebrows is waiting at the door. His scent is familiar and something flashes in Theon’s eyes.

"Alpha Magnus," Bernardo says, voice measured.

Magnus only raises a brow. "I didn’t think you'd come in person, Theon. You sent your messengers the last two times. Thought you were above sitting at a table."

Theon’s lips barely curve. "Not above peace."

"Peace," Magnus scoffs, stepping aside but not welcoming. “Come in then. Let’s see what royalty looks like up close.”

Inside the hall, the air feels heavier. There are no refreshments, no symbols of neutrality. Just a rough wooden table, some chairs, and a long banner of their pack draped across the back wall.

Theon doesn’t sit immediately. He lets his gaze sweep the room. There are warriors here pretending to be councilmen. One has a dagger tucked too visibly into his boot. Another won’t stop watching Theon’s hands.

Bernardo gives him a subtle nod before they both take their seats.

Magnus remains standing. “You came all the way here. Must be serious.”

“You broke the land division accord,” Bernardo says, his voice firmer now. “We gave you the right to graze in Riven hills, not the Dark Hollow.”

Magnus shrugs, walking slowly around the table. “Your borders keep changing, old friend. Hard to keep track.”

Theon tilts his head. “Nothing’s changed. You crossed into our lands. You killed a patrol team.”

“That was an accident—”

“Four bodies is not an accident.”

The room tenses. Even the dust seems to freeze.

One of the men by the wall grunts. “They shouldn’t have attacked first.”

“They didn’t,” Bernardo snaps. “They were sent to check border markings. They didn’t even shift.”

Silence stretches thin.

Magnus chuckles, but it’s the bitter kind. “You think you can come in here and dictate? You bring your title, your scent, and think everyone will kneel?”

“No one’s kneeling,” Theon replies calmly. “We came to fix this. But don’t mistake diplomacy for weakness.”

A silence falls again. Tension so thick it buzzes in the air.

Bernardo shifts uncomfortably. “Magnus, this isn’t how we solve things. You want war? You’ll lose wolves. You want peace? Then sit down and let’s draw new lines.”

Magnus’s eyes flick to Theon. “He’s the problem. Always has been.”

Theon’s brows lift slightly. “Didn’t think we were still holding grudges.”

“Oh, we’re not?” Magnus rounds the table, pacing like a wolf trapped in a cage. “You don’t remember humiliating me at the gathering three winters ago? You made a show of me in front of my own Beta.”

“That wasn’t personal.”

“You shattered my reputation.”

“You attacked a pup.”

Magnus slams his hand on the table. “She bit me!”

“She was six.”

Bernardo stands abruptly, placing both hands on the table. “Enough. This is why we came here, to avoid another useless feud. To prevent bloodshed between allies.”

Theon doesn’t flinch. His eyes lock with Magnus’s. “You don’t want war, Magnus. You know what I am.”

A hush falls again.

And then, Theon shifts.

Not fully. Just enough.

A sharp crack echoes in the hall as his bones slide, his spine stiffens, and his skin pulls back. His head morphs, elongating, the beast pushing through. His claws stretch out of his fingertips, black and sharp, slamming down on the table with a warning thud.

Gasps ring around the room.

Two warriors at the back immediately drop to their knees. Another stumbles backward, hitting the wall behind him.

Magnus’s face loses color.

“I’m not here to fight,” Theon growls, voice guttural, split between man and monster. “But I will not hesitate.”

He holds his Lycan form there long enough for every soul in the room to feel the weight of it. Then, slowly, he shifts back. His breathing is controlled, his heartbeat steady, not a single tremor in his limbs.

Bernardo doesn’t blink. He’s seen worse. Fought beside it.

The room is dead silent. The show of dominance was subtle—but terrifying.

“We don’t need this to become blood,” Theon says evenly. “You called it an accident? Fine. Then fix it.”

Magnus doesn’t speak. He slowly lowers into his chair, no longer pacing. No longer bold.

“We will redraft the agreement,” Bernardo says, softer now, but not weak. “We’ll send envoys to mark the lines again. You’ll stay out of Dark Hollow. We’ll give you grazing rights in Frostbend. That’s what your wolves wanted, isn’t it?”

Magnus swallows. “And the patrol deaths?”

Theon’s eyes narrow. “Blood for blood is tradition. But if you agree now—this moment—we’ll take apology in land instead of lives.”

A beat.

Then Magnus nods, stiffly. “Agreed.”

The room relaxes slightly. Some of the guards lower their heads. One of the seated men finally exhales.

Bernardo sits back down, rubbing his temple. “You should’ve just sent a letter.”

“I didn’t trust paper to carry the right message.”

Theon glances at him. “Sometimes it takes claws.”

Magnus stands again, more humbled this time. “I’ll speak to the rest of my council. You’ll have your answer in a day.”

“We’ll wait till nightfall,” Bernardo says.

“No longer.”

Magnus nods and turns to leave. The others slowly shuffle out, their eyes carefully avoiding Theon’s face.

Once the room is nearly empty, Bernardo exhales deeply. “So much for peace talks.”

Theon doesn’t answer. He’s staring at his claw marks on the table. “You think this ends here?”

“I think he’s smart enough to know what we’d do if it didn’t.”

There’s a pause.

Then Theon straightens. “I need to speak to my mate. Something about this smells wrong.”

“Because it is,” Bernardo mutters. “That wasn’t just about patrols. That was personal. Magnus doesn’t want peace. He wants a reason.”

Theon’s face darkens. “Then we don’t give him one. Not yet.”

They leave the hall without a guide again. No one dares stop them. The guards avert their eyes, stepping aside faster this time.

Outside, the wind has picked up. Dry leaves scatter across the path, caught in the growing tension of the air.

Bernardo walks a step behind Theon, speaking low. “Do you feel it too? Like something’s… about to snap?”

Theon nods slowly. “It’s not just Magnus. Someone’s pushing him.”

“And you think you know who?”

“No. But I know where to start looking.” They slowly walk back to the car, their boots hitting the ground.