Exiled Wolf, Fated Luna

Chapter 15 – The Quiet Test

The clinic is busier than yesterday.

Two patrol wolves sit on cots with bandaged hands, telling competing versions of how a fence “attacked” them. A third leans against the wall, shirt off, a grid of purple bruises blossoming across his ribs in the exact shape of someone’s boot.

Erynn moves between them like a small moon, calm and inexorable.

“Ribs, sit,” she orders. “Hands, stop gesturing or I’ll stitch your fingers together. Vexa—perfect timing.”

I hover in the doorway, folder clutched to my chest. “Should I come back when gravity likes people more?”

“No,” she says. “Come in. They’re being dramatic, not dying.”

“That’s slander,” one of the hand‑wolves mutters.

Erynn ignores him. “You remember Kade and Morra from yesterday?” she asks me. “Today they’ve added Teren.” She nods at Bruised Ribs. “He lost an argument with a tree.”

“The tree moved,” Teren protests.

“Uh‑huh.” Erynn shoots me a look. “You good to sit with him while I keep these two from waving their stitches open?”

There’s a flicker in my chest—old instinct to say no, I’ll be in the way. Bran’s neat handwriting flashes in my head.

Does not let go.

“I can try,” I say.

Erynn gives me a quick, approving nod. “Good. Grab that stool.”

I drag the stool over to Teren’s cot. Up close, he smells of sweat, crushed leaves, and the sharp undercurrent of tightly leashed embarrassment.

“Hey,” I say, perching. “I heard you lost a fight to a stationary object.”

His mouth twitches. “Wind shifted.”

“As it does,” I agree solemnly.

He exhales, some of the stiffness going out of his shoulders. “You’re Vexa, right? Hollowpeak.”

“Formerly,” I say before I can stop myself.

The word lands between us like a small, defiant stone.

“Right,” he says, and doesn’t argue. “Look, I don’t… talk. Normally. But Erynn said you’re… good at listening.”

I blink. “She did?”

He grimaces. “Apparently you sat with Orrik yesterday and he didn’t explode. That’s… rare.”

A weird, wobbly warmth unfurls under my ribs. “He did most of the work,” I say. “I just made fun of his fall.”

“That tracks.” Teren hesitates, then shifts carefully, trying to find a position that doesn’t make him wince. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends on the something.”

He stares at the ceiling. “How do you not lose your s**t every time you leave the house now?”

The bluntness punches a surprised breath out of me.

He rushes on. “I mean… after Helix. After yesterday. Knowing they want you. Knowing they know your name. I’ve seen wolves shut down on a lot less.”

Ah.

I lean my elbows on my knees, fingers laced, letting his fear wash over me instead of fighting it. It’s sharp, but not jagged; old bruises, not open wounds.

“Who says I don’t lose it?” I ask softly. “Vael caught me having a staring contest with my ceiling last night.”

A faint huff escapes him. “Okay, fair.”

“I’m scared,” I say. It feels illegal to admit it out loud in a room full of warriors. “Every time I think about that smell, my stomach tries to eat itself. Every time Milo walks near a railing, I want to wrap him in bubble wrap and nail him to the floor.”

Teren snorts, then winces and presses a hand carefully to his ribs. “Relatable.”

“But,” I add, “I’m more scared of what happens if I let that fear make all my decisions.”

He looks at me, finally. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I have a choice,” I say. “Stay in my room, never step outside, hope the world forgets I exist. Or sit here. On this stupid stool. In this stupid moment. With you. And make the world deal with me anyway.”

His eyes search my face like he’s trying to decide if this is a line I rehearsed.

“It still feels like my lungs forget how to work,” I admit. “But I remember the bridge. And Darian bleeding. And… the way my hands didn’t let go, even when my brain did.” I tap my chest. “My body’s smarter than my fear, sometimes. I’m trying to trust that.”

Silence stretches. Not awkward. Just… full.

“Erynn said you were weird,” Teren says at last. There’s something like respect under the words. “She didn’t say you made sense.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

A shout echoes faintly down the hall. Voices overlap, footsteps quick and heavy.

Erynn’s head snaps up. The energy in the room shifts—curiosity flipping to alert, then to the first sting of worry. Through the bond, I feel Darian’s attention sharpen somewhere else in the house.

The clinic door slams open.

Vael strides in, gaze already scanning for Erynn. “We’ve got a situation,” she says, flat and urgent. “Council‑urgent. Both of you—” she jabs a finger at Erynn and then, to my surprise, at me “—are coming to hear it. Now.”

My heart stutters. “Me?”

“You’re on the reports,” she says. “Helix, rogues, Hollowpeak evac. They asked for you by name.”

The room tilts. For a second, every wall in my mind tries to slam back up.

You can stay in your room, hide, let others speak for you.

Or you can walk into that room and own what you’ve already done.

My feet are moving before the fear catches up.

“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Let’s go.”