Blood and Loyalty

Chapter Four

Landon’s POV

~Cracks in authority~

I sat in my office, head resting in my hands, lost in the weight of recent events.

Beta Gabriel had been gone for three weeks now. He’d promised to return soon, after smoothing relations with the neighboring pack. “You’ve got this, boy,” he’d said, clapping my shoulder one last time.

I wanted to believe him. Goddess, I needed to.

But I couldn’t.

For the first time since I was sixteen, no one stood behind me. No steady voice guided my choices. No familiar presence filled the silence.

And slowly but surely the pack started unraveling like a poorly tied knot.

At first it was small things like a patrol running late without explanation or a supply run that came back short because someone “forgot” to check the list or warriors talking over me in training drills instead of waiting for orders. Then the council started holding their own meetings behind closed doors, hushed voices that cut off the moment my cane tapped down the hall.

They thought I couldn’t hear the quickened heartbeats. They thought blindness made me deaf to disrespect.

I spent my days in this office, pretending to review reports read aloud in careful, patronizing tones.

My fingers traced the edges of the desk my father had carved, feeling the grooves he’d left behind, and I promised him again, that I would hold do everything in my power to hold this pack together.

But that promise felt more impossible with every passing day. That afternoon, a concerning report came through the mindlink.

A lone wolf had been sighted at the northern border, female, unconscious, half-buried in snow near the riverbank. No immediate threat. Patrol had dragged her to the holding cells beneath the training hall.

*You know the protocol.* I said through the mindlink.

The order was sharp and clean, the way Beta Gabriel would have given it. Rogues had murdered my father after all. They had orchestrated the explosion that stole my sight. I would not shelter another under my roof.

I waited for the confirmation but instead got startled by a sharp knock on my door.

“Come in.”

The smell of cedar filled the room as Elder Damien stepped in. He carried an air of arrogance about him and that alone set me on edge.

“What’s this about?” I asked once I was sure he’d settled into a chair.

“The wolf we found.”

“You mean the rogue? I already gave an order.”

He remained silent for a beat as though selecting his words carefully.

“With respect, Alpha,” he began, “we’ve decided it isn’t wise to…”

“You’ve decided.” I cut him off, voice low and dangerous. “Since when does the council decide whether my orders stand?”

Damien didn’t flinch.

“Since the pack can’t afford another mistake. Her scent is off, she doesn’t smell fully rogue. If she belongs to another territory and we execute her, we invite questions. Retaliation. War we’re in no position to fight.”

He let that sink in.

“Right now, every rival pack is watching us. Waiting for proof we’re weak. Killing an unidentified female without investigation would be like giving them exactly what they want. Remember the Shadow Ridge pack.”

I clenched my fists.

“You’re saying you’re refusing a direct order.” I leaned forward, letting him understand the gravity of his actions. “Because you think I’m too blind to see the risk.”

“No,” he said carefully. “We’re advising caution.”

He left without permission. The door clicked shut behind him.

I sat there, breathing hard, the walls closing in. Everything was slipping, my authority, my control, the promise to my father.

Rogues had caused it all.

And now one lay in my cells, breathing my air, while my own people shielded her just to spite me.

I ran a hand through my hair and laughed, short and bitter. A rogue had crawled into my life at the exact moment everything fell apart.

Fate had a cruel sense of humor.

I reached for my cane and pushed up from the desk.

If they wouldn’t carry out my order, I would do it myself. I would not allow another weakness to take root in my pack.

The corridor was quiet as I moved. My steps were slow but steady. Each tap of the cane on stone echoed louder than the last, marking the cracks spreading through everything I’d built.

Halfway to the stairs, her scent hit me.

Cassidy.

It slammed into me like a shockwave, stirring the dull ache in my chest. I paused as she approached.

“You should rest,” she said. “You don’t look too good.”

Before I could get a word out, she brushed past me, her shoulder grazing mine. The faint spark of our broken bond flickered and died.

I continued down to the holding cells alone. The air grew colder with every step. Damp stone, rust, the faint metallic tang of old blood surrounded me. The guards posted outside the cell straightened when they sensed me, but I felt their stares, curious, wary, pitying.

“She’s still unconscious,” one offered quickly. “Head wound’s healing slow. The healer says…”

“Open the cell.”

Iron hinges screamed as the door swung wide. I pushed past them into the small space. Her scent was the first thing that hit me, wild herbs, a hint of something softer, like fresh rain on soil. Not the foul rot of a true rogue. But it was there, although faint, accompanied by the stench of blood, hers, sharp and coppery from the wound. My wolf stirred, unsettled, but I shoved it down.

I heard her breathing, uneven and shallow.

The cot creaked under her slight weight. Chains rattled softly with each small shift. She was unconscious, defenseless, completely at my mercy.

Perfect.

My hand closed around the silver dagger tucked at my belt, its hilt cool and familiar in my palm. One quick thrust. That was all it would take to prove I wasn’t helpless. To show my word still carried weight.

I edged closer, cane nudging the cot’s frame. My arm rose, dagger poised.

And just as I was about to strike, chaos erupted.

She lunged.