CHAPTER 24
1580 Words
Morning came early after Elise had drowned herself in her thoughts. She had barely slept and had over thought every single thing about the packhouse, if she’d continue to be an outcast all her.
She felt sorry for herself — she had gone from being the outcast with no wolf or power to being the outcast with way too much power thst the wolves were scared of.
Her life must have been written and organized to frustrate her.
The packhouse was quiet and slow to wake or become lively, like everyone inside was still tired from everything that had happened lately.
Elise woke before the sunrise, tangled under the covers and covered with sweat; the aftermath of turning and tossing around too much.
Her dreams had been filled with thick fog and whispers—Becky’s voice, the council’s murmurs, Kai’s eyes staring but unreadable.
She sat up and pressed the tips of her hands to her eyes, hoping the consistent pounding in her head would reduce.
She hadn’t slept well since the Council’s visit. Or maybe since her powers had revealed themselves.
She wasn’t sure when the unease had started—only that it hadn’t stopped.
A knock on her door made her flinch.
“Elise?” Lucien called out while stumping his feet at the door as his hands were filled.
She pulled on a hoodie in a hurry and opened the door to find him already dressed, his hair still wet from taking a shower.
“Morning,” he said, holding up two mugs filled with ginger tea.
“Figured you might need something strong.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, accepting one.
They sat on the floor of her room, backs against the bed frame with their legs stretched out flat.
Elise was wiggling her legs.
Lucien passed her a slice of toast wrapped in a napkin.
It was slightly burnt, and she didn’t care. It felt like the first normal thing anyone had done for her in days.
“You hear anything more about Becky?” she asked cautiously.
He shook his head. “No one’s saying much.
Kai’s been quiet about it, and Elder Kion left early this morning to speak with someone from the outer clans.”
Elise raised an eyebrow. “About me?”
Lucien shrugged, sipping his coffee. “Maybe. You’re kind of the hot topic.”
She winced with a grudge on her shoulders, “Lucky me.”
They sat in silence for a while before Lucien spoke again. “I saw how you looked at Kai yesterday. At the gate.”
She stiffened but didn’t deny it.
“Have you talked to him?”
“No,” she said, voice flat. “There’s nothing to say that I haven’t already screamed or swallowed.”
Lucien didn’t push.
Instead, he offered her the last piece of toast and stood. “Just… don’t let what they think turn you into someone you’re not. I know it feels like everything’s slipping out of your control, but who you are—that’s still yours. Don’t give that away, Elise.”
She nodded silently, watching him leave. His words stayed with her like a low hum in her chest.
By midday, Elise wandered the packhouse alone.
Again.
The hallways were too quiet, conversations dying the moment she got close enough to hear anything they were talking about.
Her presence had become like a warning from a storm—something to be acknowledged with caution, never confronted.
She passed a group of warriors in the training yard but didn’t stop to join them.
Not yet.
She wasn’t sure she trusted herself not to explode, either literally or emotionally.
At one point, she wandered to the end of the forest behind the pack house training grounds.
The trees moved slowly in the breeze, their branches full of new leaves that just erupted and signs that spring had arrived.
It used to feel like an escape, the woods.
Now they felt like a memory she didn’t belong to anymore.
“Elise!”
She turned.
Anya was jogging toward her, hair wind-blown, cheeks flushed.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you”, she panted, catching her breath.
“You’re needed in the infirmary”.
Elise frowned. “Why?”
Anya looked hesitant. “They didn’t say. Just that you should come.”
Elise followed her back with a rising sense of dread she couldn’t quite place.
The halls felt narrower today.
The light colder.
When they reached the medical wing, the scent of antiseptic and moonroot filled her nose.
A nurse gave her a tight smile and waved her through.
“She’s awake”, the nurse whispered almost not audible.
Elise stopped. “She…?”
“Becky…” the nurse clarified, nodding toward the closed door at the end of the hall.
Elise’s heart skipped a beat. “Why do they need me?”
“She asked for you.”
A pause.
“Insisted, actually.”
The nurse didn’t wait for Elise’s response before returning to her work.
Elise stood frozen outside the door for a long moment. Her hand hovered at the knob.
You’re not the same girl, she reminded herself.
You’re not that scared little thing anymore.
Still, when she finally pushed the door open, her breath caught.
Becky Everglade sat upright in bed, back straight, eyes bright with fire that hadn’t dulled at all.
Her skin was pale, but the spark in her gaze was unmistakable.
“Elise,” she said coolly. “About time.”
Elise stepped in slowly, keeping her voice even. “You asked for me?”
Becky gave a humorless laugh. “Don’t act surprised. You knew I was listening yesterday, didn’t you?”
Elise didn’t reply.
“I heard everything,” Becky continued, enunciating every word.
“Moonbreather. Shadowborn. The Council’s fear. All of it.”
Elise folded her arms, not willing to budge.
“Then I guess you know what you need to know.”
“Oh, I know more than that,” Becky said, tilting her head.
“I know that suddenly the girl I used to knock into lockers is now the center of every whispered conversation in this pack. And I know that bothers me.”
Elise raised an eyebrow. “Sorry my survival is inconvenient for you.”
Becky’s jaw twitched. “You saved me… again!, and trust me, I hate that”.
“But more than that, I hate being irrelevant”.
“And if there’s one thing I’m good at, Elise, it’s not staying in the shadows, you know that too”.
Something cold went through Elise’s chest.
“What are you saying?” She asked, unsure of what it was Becky was bent on this time.
Becky smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m saying I want in.”
Elise blinked, “In what?”
“You’re going to need allies,” Becky said smoothly.
“You think the Council’s just going to let you exist with that much power and no leash?”
“They’re going to try to contain you”.
“Control you”.
“Break you”.
“And as much as I hate to say it, you’ll need people watching your back.”
“You’re volunteering?” Elise asked, brows furrowed.
“I’m offering a deal,” Becky corrected.
“Protection… Information…Influence”.
“You scratch my back, I keep the narrative in your favor”.
Elise stared at her. “And in return?”
“You don’t leave me behind.” Becky’s voice was steady.
“I won’t be second to you. But I will stand beside you, well that is if you let me.”
Elise hesitated, then gave a bitter chuckle. “You think I trust you now?”
“No,” Becky said. “But you will. Because you’ll realize that surviving in this world, especially with your power… means making uncomfortable choices.”
For a long moment, the only sound was the steady beep of the heart monitor.
Elise finally spoke, her voice quiet but firm. “If you cross me again, Becky—if you twist this into something cruel—there won’t be a third chance.”
Becky’s smile widened. “That’s more like it.”
That night, Elise stood on the training field. The moon hung low, gently lighting up the dusty ground beneath her.
She summoned the power slowly, carefully, feeling the familiar thrum beneath her skin. Her hands glowed faintly.
Behind her, someone approached. She didn’t turn around.
“She’s awake,” came Kai’s voice. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“I know,” Elise replied.
Silence stretched between them.
“You made a deal with her?” he finally asked.
“I didn’t say yes,” Elise said. “Not yet.”
Kai moved to stand beside her. “You shouldn’t trust her.”
“I don’t,” she said, watching the moonlight flicker through her fingers.
“But I understand her. And sometimes… that’s worse.”
Kai looked at her, something unreadable in his expression.
“What are you planning, Elise?”
She turned to him slowly. “I’m planning not to be afraid anymore.”
The wind shifted around them, and from deep within the woods came the distant howl of a wolf.
The sound carried a warning.
Or a promise.
Elise couldn’t tell which.
- Writer
