Elara POV:
The last of the council leaves under Caelan’s watchful gaze.
I don’t miss the deliberate way he waits until the very end - until protocol is satisfied, until even the most stubborn among them has crossed the boundary markers etched into the stone — before he finally turns away. There’s nothing hurried in the movement, nothing reactive. It’s control embodied, authority worn so naturally it barely needs to be asserted.
Only then do I move.
I find him where the land opens into the quiet heart of the pack’s territory, where the training grounds give way to old trees and the air carries the clean scent of pine and cooling earth. The sun has dipped low enough that the light slants amber through the branches, catching on the sweat still clinging to his skin, outlining muscle and po
