Diesel’s gaze didn’t leave mine. “Do they indeed?”
My gut twisted. “What is it?” I asked.
“I don’t see your druid giving you any counsel,” Diesel said. “No guidance. No allegiance.”
“It’s…complicated.” The words felt weak even as I said them. “They think I have too much?—”
He looked at me, eyes gleaming with knowledge. “You see it now, Alpha, don’t you?”
I did. I turned to Rowen. “It’s not you.”
Her face crumpled in confusion. “What isn’t?”
“We were made to think it was about territory. About titles. About Stonefang and the Hollow. It’s not.”
“It’s about power,” Killian said. “Old magic. Territory bound to wolves by more than blood and hierarchy. The Hollow’s old. Older than we know. Stonefang too.” He glanced at Diesel. “You’ve always known it.”
Diesel dipped his head, acknowledging without explaining.
“The Council doesn’t carehowmuch land I hold,” I said. “They carewhatkind of land it is. And who commands it.”
Killian stared at me. “It’s you, Wolfe. Not because of your title. Because of what the land recognizes in you. That’s why they want to divide you from it. Because without you…”
“The power shifts,” Brand finished.
Diesel leaned forward, voice velvet-soft. “So I’ll ask again. Where does the druid stand?”
And for the first time, I didn’t have an answer. “I’ll ask,” I told them. “I’ll go now.”
Rowen and I didn’t speak as we made our way through the Hollow.
The sun was bleeding into the ridges, copper-gold on pine. The wind carried the scent of earth and smoke—remnants of battle still clinging to the soil. It should’ve calmed me.
It didn’t.
The druid’s tent waited like it always did. Weathered. Still. Watching.
I didn’t hesitate, I ducked though the flaps, no hesitations, no ceremony. They stood in the center, tall and lean, cloaked in the same robes they always wore. Their eyes gleamed—with something older than wolves and wars.
“You’ve come,” they said, stepping aside. “At last.”
I pushed in, brushing past their robes. Rowen followed silently.
“You knew,” I said without preamble. “About the Pack Council. About the land. About me.”
The druid didn’t flinch. “Of course.”
I took a step closer. “Then why the silence?”
Their gaze drifted toward Rowen. “Because the Hollow must choose its own future. Not be told.”
“That’s bullshit,” Rowen snapped. “You watched us flail in the dark while they moved against us. You could’ve warned us.”
“I could have,” the druid agreed calmly. “But knowledge before readiness is like flame to dry kindling. It destroys more than it reveals.”
I barely contained my growl. “Tell us the truth. All of it. Now.”
The druid walked to the hearth, lighting a single taper of herb-laced wax. The smell curled instantly—fennel, sage, and something far older.
