Chapter 41

Chapter 41
Elara’s POV

I shut the door behind me harder than I meant to. The sound echoed down the hall and drew the attention of two young pack members who were carrying baskets of laundry. Their eyes flicked to me, then quickly away, like I was carrying something contagious.

It burned.

I walked faster, not caring where I was going, only that I had to get away from that room, from Damian’s silence, from the way he couldn’t even tell me if he trusted me.

My chest ached, but I kept moving until I reached the back garden. The air was cold, sharp against my cheeks. I sat on the stone bench near the edge of the trees, burying my face in my hands. For a few seconds, I just let myself breathe, but the breath shook every time it left my lungs.

All around me, the pack was stirring. Wolves ran training drills, young ones sparred under the eye of older fighters, and the low hum of voices carried through the open yard. I could feel it, the split Damian had been talking about. Groups kept to themselves. Conversations stopped when I walked by. Eyes lingered longer than they should.

It wasn’t just my imagination. They didn’t trust me. Some of them feared me.

A twig cracked, and I looked up quickly. Sarah was walking toward me. Her cane tapped the ground, steady and slow, but her gaze was sharp, as if she could see through the walls I was trying to hold together.

“Do not run from him,” she said without greeting.

I blinked at her. “I wasn’t…”

“Yes, you were.” She lowered herself onto the bench beside me with surprising strength. “You think leaving him to his doubts will fix anything?”

“He doubts me,” I whispered. The words hurt worse than admitting it to myself. “If he can’t even tell me I belong here, then what am I doing?”

Her hand closed over mine, rough and warm. “Damian is not Kael. He does not speak when fear is choking him. He holds it inside until it almost crushes him. But his silence is not rejection.”

I wanted to believe her, but the memory of his voice replayed in my head. They’ll use you to break me.

It was already happening. Joran’s whispers, the glances in the halls, the muttering during council. I had seen it too.

“I don’t want to be the reason this pack falls apart,” I said.

“Then don’t be.” Her tone was sharp, but not cruel. “Stand. Fight for your place. Show them you are more than Kael’s victim or Damian’s shadow.”

My throat tightened. “They’ll never see me that way.”

“They will if you make them.” She looked out toward the training field where Jason, the young wolf I had helped shift, was running drills with two others. His movements were smooth now, strong. “Help them. Use what you carry. Heal what is broken in them. Wolves follow those who make them stronger.”

Her words sank in slowly, heavy and uncomfortable, because I knew she was right. Hiding, shrinking away, waiting for Damian to protect me, it wasn’t working. If anything, it was making things worse.

The sound of voices rose near the training grounds. I looked up to see a small crowd forming around Jason. He was on the ground, clutching his side, his face twisted in pain. The others around him looked uncertain, like they wanted to help but didn’t know how.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I was on my feet. My legs carried me across the yard. Some wolves noticed me coming, and the crowd shifted uneasily. A few muttered my name. Others stared with open suspicion.

I pushed through them and knelt beside Jason. His skin was pale, sweat beading on his forehead. “What happened?”

“He shifted wrong,” one of the trainers said. “Too fast.”

Jason’s breathing was shallow, his body trembling as if he couldn’t control the change. His wolf was close to the surface, fighting him.

My hand hovered over him. The stares of the pack burned on my back. If I touched him, if I tried to help and failed, it would only make things worse.

But if I walked away, it would prove everything they whispered about me.

Jason’s eyes met mine, desperate. “Please,” he gasped.

That broke the hesitation. I pressed my hands against his chest, closing my eyes, reaching for that strange pulse inside me I had only just begun to understand. It wasn’t about control, Sarah had said. It was about connection.

I felt it, the flicker of his wolf, unstable, tearing him apart. I pushed warmth toward it, steadying, grounding. Jason gasped, his body arching under my hands. His wolf howled inside him, then slowly, painfully, he settled. The tremors eased. His breathing evened out.

When I pulled back, he was staring at me with wide eyes. “You saved me,” he whispered.

The crowd was silent. Too silent. I turned and found dozens of eyes on me. Some were cautious, but others, others looked like they were seeing me for the first time.

“She’s a Giftmaker,” someone whispered.

“She helped him,” another said.

Not everyone believed it. A few slipped away, their faces hard. But others stayed. They were watching me differently now, not just like a threat, but like a possibility.

Jason sat up slowly, clutching my hand. “Thank you.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. My throat was thick, my chest heavy. I just nodded.

When I finally stood, Sarah was watching from across the yard. Her face was unreadable, but I thought I saw the ghost of a smile.

Maybe I couldn’t make them all trust me. Maybe I would always be a question mark in their eyes.

But today, for the first time, I felt like I had taken a step forward. And I wasn’t going to stop now.