Chapter 5: Expectations and Doubt
1125 Words
Tristan hadn’t even finished his first cup of coffee when the summons came.
A younger scout, barely shifted, arrived at the den door, red-faced and wide-eyed.
“Your father requests both you and Micah in the council room. Immediately.”
Tristan didn’t ask why. Neither did Rae, though her jaw clenched when she overheard. She sat at the table, spooning mushy fruit into Kalen’s mouth while Lyra tugged on her braid.
“Council room sounds serious,” she said quietly.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Sure.”
She didn’t look up.
Tristan left with a heavy chest and the note from the night before still folded in his pocket.
The council room wasn’t built for comfort.
It was stone, high-ceilinged and shadowed — meant for strategy, tradition, and the weight of legacy. Alpha Garrett stood at the center, one hand braced on the long oak table, his expression unreadable.
Micah was already there, arms crossed, eyes sharp. The scent of dried blood still clung to him from the night before.
Tristan took his place beside his brother. “What’s this about?”
Garrett didn’t waste time.
“There was a second rogue attack. East border this time. Smaller group. Same tactics. Same scent.”
Micah tensed. “They're testing our edges.”
“They're building a pattern,” Garrett said. “A pattern that leads here.”
Tristan frowned. “What do you want us to do?”
His father looked between them. “I want one of you to take point on border defense. Now.”
Micah opened his mouth to volunteer, but Garrett held up a hand.
“I’m not asking Micah.”
The room went silent.
Tristan blinked. “You want me?”
“I want to see if you can lead,” Garrett said. “Not run. Not fight. Lead. Strategize. Coordinate. Take responsibility.”
Micah’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He didn’t argue — which somehow made it worse.
Tristan stepped back. “Why now?”
Garrett’s voice dropped. “Because I’m not going to live forever. And Micah may not always be able to shield you from what’s coming.”
Tristan’s stomach twisted.
Micah looked down.
“What’s wrong with you?” Tristan asked. “You’re fine.”
“I’m not,” Garrett said, quietly. “And I haven’t been. The healers say my lungs are weakening. Something in the last infection never left. I’ve got a year, maybe two — if I’m lucky.”
Tristan felt the floor tilt under him. His father… dying?
Garrett stepped closer. “I’ve spent the last two decades preparing Micah. But now I want to know if I’ve been wasting everything by ignoring you.”
Tristan's voice was tight. “You’ve never ignored me. You’ve just expected me to fail.”
“Then prove me wrong.”
The next week was a whirlwind.
Tristan was assigned a patrol unit — ten wolves, half of them older than him. None of them particularly thrilled to be taking orders from the pack’s reckless second son.
He tried to approach it seriously. He met with the scouts, drew maps, marked danger zones. He coordinated shifts, enforced routes, sent updates to the council.
But still, he felt out of place.
He wasn’t Micah. He wasn’t built for quiet authority and perfect plans. He second-guessed everything. He acted on instinct. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
And every night, when he came home to the den, Rae was a little quieter.
The pups grew fast. Lyra had started crawling. Kalen had the beginnings of a growl. But Tristan always seemed to miss something — the first time Lyra pulled herself up, the way Kalen started mimicking Rae’s laugh.
He tried. He did. But Rae had begun building a life that didn’t require him to be in the center of it.
One evening, after a particularly long shift, he walked into the den and found Cass there — Rae’s friend, blunt and sarcastic. She was helping Rae sort through herbs for the nursery.
“Look who remembered he has a family,” Cass said, not even looking up.
Tristan ignored her. “Can I talk to you?” he asked Rae.
She didn’t move. “You’re talking.”
“In private.”
Cass stood. “I’ll go pretend to be useful somewhere else.”
When she was gone, Tristan sat on the floor across from Rae.
“How long are you going to keep freezing me out?”
“I’m not,” she said softly. “I’m just… adjusting.”
“To what?”
She looked at him. “To the fact that the person I thought I’d grow old with doesn’t know if he even wants to stay.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” Her eyes were glassy. “You say you don’t feel the bond. That you’re confused. That you don’t know. But you’re not the one waking up alone. You’re not the one feeding two pups and wondering if the man you love is going to disappear again.”
“I’m doing everything I can—”
“No, you’re doing everything for the pack. Not for us.”
He wanted to fight that. To throw his new responsibilities in her face, to remind her that he was trying, that he was showing up.
But maybe she was right.
Maybe he was showing up everywhere but here.
Micah found him the next day near the cliffs, watching the sunset.
“You look like you lost a war,” Micah said.
“Feels like I’m losing two.”
Micah sat beside him. “You’re not failing, you know. You’re learning. It’s messy. It’s supposed to be.”
Tristan laughed bitterly. “Dad only gave me this job because he’s dying.”
“No,” Micah said. “He gave you this job because he wants to believe in you. He’s just not good at showing it.”
Tristan nodded. “You ever think about walking away from all of it?”
“All the time.”
“But you don’t.”
“Because someone has to hold it together.”
Tristan looked at him. “And what if I can’t?”
Micah turned to him, serious now. “Then someone else will. But you’ll always wonder what would’ve happened if you had just tried.”
That night, Tristan returned home late again. The pups were already asleep.
Rae was standing on the porch.
She didn’t look angry anymore. Just tired.
“I don’t want to fight,” she said.
“Me either.”
“I just want to know where we go from here.”
Tristan didn’t answer right away.
Because the truth was… he didn’t know.
- Writer
