Chapter 10 – Wolves Behind Masks
The council chamber smelled of old smoke and older grudges. The stone walls, etched with claw marks from wars long past, seemed to lean inward like eavesdroppers. Flickering torchlight painted the room in shades of bronze and blood, casting distorted shadows that danced across the carved sigils of the Bloodmoon lineage.
Louve felt those shadows clinging to her as she followed Dolph inside. Her boots scuffed against the worn floor, echoing louder than they should have. Every eye in the room tracked her—measuring, dissecting, damning.
Six wolves sat around the long, scarred table. The elders. Power hummed in the air like an unsheathed blade, sharp and dangerous. Seraphine was there too, lounging with predatory grace in a chair near Dolph’s right, her gaze cutting into Louve like silvered steel.
“Close the doors,” Dolph ordered, voice calm but carrying the weight of command that silenced even the crackle of flames.
Two sentinels obeyed, and the heavy wooden doors shut with a boom that sounded too much like a verdict.
Louve tried not to fidget under the heat of their stares. She wasn’t supposed to be here—that much was obvious in the way their lips curled, the way their wolves bristled beneath skin. An outsider in the council chamber? It was sacrilege. But Dolph hadn’t given her a choice.
“Stand by me,” he’d said earlier, in that tone that left no room for argument. “And listen. You’ll learn more tonight than in a month of training.”
She wasn’t sure if this was trust… or a test designed to break her.
Now, as Dolph took his place at the head of the table, his presence anchoring the room like a mountain, Louve wondered if even he knew.
---
“Why is she here?” The question cracked the tense silence like a whip. Elder Malrik’s voice was gravel over steel, his milky-gray eyes narrowing beneath a mane of white hair.
“She’s not one of us,” another elder snapped—a woman named Liora, whose scent carried the bitter tang of judgment. “She’s a stray. An unclaimed wolf with no blood ties, no standing. What game are you playing, Alpha?”
Alpha. The title rolled through the chamber like distant thunder, but it didn’t soften their tone.
Louve clenched her jaw, forcing her hands to remain loose at her sides. Her wolf snarled in the cage of her bones, hating the insult.
“She’s mine,” Dolph said simply.
The words landed heavy in the room. Louve’s heart tripped, heat flashing through her before she could stop it. His? He didn’t look at her as he said it—his gaze remained locked on the elders, cold and unwavering—but something about the claim struck deep.
“Yours?” Seraphine’s voice curled with amusement, though her eyes burned with something darker. “Careful, Alpha. The last time you staked a claim, it started a war.”
A muscle ticked in Dolph’s jaw. “She’s under my protection,” he said, voice like frost. “And she will remain so until I say otherwise.”
The elders muttered, displeasure rippling like an undercurrent. But none challenged him outright. Not yet.
---
“The howl we heard tonight,” Dolph continued, sweeping the room with a gaze that could cut bone, “came from the eastern ridge. Shadowfang wolves, inside Bloodmoon borders.”
The murmurs stilled, replaced by a taut silence.
“They wouldn’t dare—” Malrik began.
“They would,” Seraphine cut in, her tone sharp as a blade. “Lucien thrives on audacity. He’s testing us. Probing for weakness.” Her gaze slid deliberately to Louve. “And the rumors haven’t helped.”
Louve stiffened. “What rumors?”
Seraphine’s smile was all teeth. “That our Alpha shelters a stray female with a dangerous gift. A wolf who isn’t bound by Bloodmoon law, yet trains for war at his side.”
The words hit like cold water. Louve’s throat tightened as every eye turned to her again, heavy with suspicion… and something hungrier.
Dolph’s voice cut through before she could speak. “Rumors mean nothing. Facts do. And the fact is this—Lucien will move soon. The question is whether he moves alone… or with help from inside our walls.”
That landed like a blade in the heart of the room. The elders exchanged sharp looks, wolves bristling beneath their skins.
“You think there’s a traitor among us?” Liora hissed.
“I think,” Dolph said slowly, “that Shadowfang has eyes everywhere. And I think someone in this room enjoys the idea of Bloodmoon falling.”
The silence after that was different—thicker, charged. Even the flames seemed to hold their breath.
Louve felt it too: the pulse of danger coiling tighter with every second. This wasn’t just politics. This was blood waiting to be spilled.
---
As the argument flared—voices rising, claws itching under skin—Louve studied the faces around the table. She didn’t know these wolves, not really. But her instincts whispered truths in the language of heartbeats and flickering eyes.
Seraphine: defiant, coiled like a blade, but loyal in her own twisted way.
Malrik: rigid, proud, but there was fear there—deep and sour.
Liora: smiling too much for someone who smelled of unease.
Her wolf prowled restlessly, pressing against her ribs. Danger. Lies. Shadows.
She didn’t realize she was staring until Dolph’s voice broke through the storm. “Enough.”
The word cracked like thunder, silencing the chamber. Dolph rose, and for a moment, Louve understood why even the most rebellious wolves bowed their heads. Power rolled off him in waves, dark and primal, like the ocean before a storm.
“Shadowfang won’t wait for us to squabble,” he said, gaze sweeping the table. “At dawn, we fortify the eastern ridge. Every warrior on alert. If Lucien wants to test our strength, he’ll bleed for it.”
“And her?” Liora asked, chin tilting toward Louve. “Will you parade her on the front lines, too?”
Louve’s pulse stuttered, but before she could answer, Dolph spoke. “She fights when I say she fights. Until then, she trains.” His eyes flicked to Louve for the first time that night—gray steel locking with hers. “And she doesn’t break.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command wrapped in a promise, and gods help her, it set something blazing in her chest.
---
The meeting ended in fragments—wolves storming out with mutters and sidelong glances that promised nothing good. When the doors finally shut behind the last elder, Louve exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“That went well,” she said dryly, leaning against the wall.
Dolph arched a brow, the faintest shadow of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You’re still breathing. That’s a win.”
She snorted, then winced at the sting in her ribs. “They hate me.”
“They fear you,” he corrected. He stepped closer, the air tightening between them like a drawn bow. “Fear makes wolves stupid. Or dangerous.”
“Comforting,” she muttered, though her pulse betrayed her calm facade.
Dolph’s gaze lingered on her for a long, unguarded beat—on the blood smeared down her arm, the exhaustion etched in her face, the fire that refused to die in her eyes. Then he looked away, the moment snapping like a thread pulled too tight.
“Get some rest,” he said, voice rougher than before. “Tomorrow, everything changes.”
---
Louve lay awake long after the torches burned low, staring at the ceiling as shadows crawled like ink across the stone. Tomorrow. The word tasted like blood and promise.
She didn’t know what scared her more—that she wasn’t ready for the storm coming… or that a part of her had stopped wanting to run from it.