Chapter 7 – Alera
Lines We Can't Uncross
I watched Kael walk away from the training yard, his shoulders tense, his head high despite the bruise already blooming along his jaw from Jace's punch.
Good.
He needed to feel something. Pain, pressure—consequences.
Five years ago, he walked away from this pack. From me. And now he thought one warning and a vial of cursed witch brew would erase the damage?
He was wrong.
And yet…
The moment I saw that silver-blue liquid pulsing with death, the weight of my anger shifted. I'd seen that glow before, only once. Years ago, when the witches burned through the Emberclaw pack and left only ash behind.
I was thirteen. Too young to fight, but old enough to remember the smell of charred fur and broken bones.
I knew Kael was telling the truth.
And that terrified me more than the thought of him lying.
The wind carried his scent to me even after he disappeared behind the trees. I hated that I still recognized it. Cedar smoke and steel, tinged with something raw, something his.
I shook the thoughts off and turned back to Jace.
He hadn't moved. He stood in the yard like a statue carved from fury, hands still clenched, jaw tight.
"He shouldn't be here," he said without looking at me.
"Maybe not," I answered. "But he's right."
His gaze snapped to mine. "You're trusting him?"
"I'm trusting the threat. Not the wolf."
He huffed. "You always were better at separating your heart from your head."
I let the jab slide.
"You saw the vial. You've smelled the dark magic before. You know what's coming."
"I know," he muttered. "But I don't like it."
"Neither do I."
We stood in silence for a long moment. The other wolves had cleared out, giving us space. Maybe out of respect. Maybe out of fear. No one questioned Jace's authority in the pack. Not even me.
But this wasn't about dominance or pride. This was about survival.
"If we're doing this," he said finally, "we do it my way."
I raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning I don't trust Kael. I want eyes on him at all times. I want him sleeping under warded roofs. And I want your word, Alera, that if he crosses a single line, you'll put him down yourself."
The weight of those words hit me like a slap.
Kill Kael?
Could I?
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I looked out toward the horizon, where the sun dipped lower, casting the trees in gold and blood-red light.
"If it comes to that," I said quietly, "you won't have to ask."
His silence told me he believed me.
I headed back to the packhouse, my mind racing. My father was still at the Northern Border Summit—three more days before he returned. That gave us a window. A small one. And if I knew Kael, he'd try to burn through it like wildfire through dry grass.
I didn't have time for hesitation.
I gathered the betas—three trusted fighters I'd trained with since we were kids. I told them enough to raise alarms, but not enough to send panic rippling through the pack. I didn't need chaos right now. I needed order. Focus.
Kael showed up just after sundown.
No weapons. No allies.
Just his usual shadowed eyes and that wolfish smirk that used to undo me in seconds.
Now it just made my skin itch.
"You're late," I said.
He shrugged. "You said by nightfall. Technically, the moon's not even up yet."
I rolled my eyes and waved him inside the war room.
The room hadn't changed in decades. Maps of pack territories stretched across the walls. Shelves lined with ancient texts. A table carved with the symbol of our bloodline—the twin wolves facing each other, one with fangs bared, the other with eyes closed.
Balance. Or conflict.
Depending on who you asked.
Kael laid the rest of his evidence on the table—notes, reports, even a torn page from an old prophecy scroll.
I recognized the symbols immediately.
They matched the ones we found carved into the body of a rogue three weeks ago. The one no one could explain. The one I'd buried without reporting to the Council.
My stomach twisted.
"This is bigger than we thought," I whispered.
Kael nodded. "They're not just killing wolves. They're using them. Feeding the land with blood to wake something old. Something buried."
I met his eyes.
And for the first time in five years, I didn't see the boy who broke me.
I saw the man standing between me and something far worse.
I hated that I still cared.
But I hated the idea of losing him again even more.