Chapter 18: The King's Wrath

FINNIAN

Later in the day, the elders arrived, each of them bowing deeply to the Alpha King before taking their seats. The air shifted the moment they stepped in. It was heavy and silent. No one spoke unless Rowan did first.

My brother never liked the idea of Beta or Gamma, or anything traditional, for that matter. Said it made the pack lazy, too reliant on rank. We only had guards and warriors. No middlemen. You either fought for the pack or you didn't belong.

“You sent for us, Your Highness,” Felix said, standing on the left side. He wore a mask of obedience, but I knew better. His smile was always too perfect, his voice too smooth. Something was rotting behind those eyes. I could smell it.

Rowan didn’t respond. He just stared down at them, sitting on that thick black throne carved from iron oak, the symbol of the Stormclaw pack behind him like a shadow ready to strike.

“Did none of you see what was going on? Did none of you hear what’s been happening to the members of our pack?” Rowan’s voice slammed through the hall. It wasn’t a question. It was a warning. His voice alone made the walls tremble.

The elders shifted uncomfortably. Some frowned, some mumbled under their breaths, a few even let their aura leak out, but it was nothing compared to his.

“I need an answer!” Rowan roared, standing, his fury dropping like thunder in the room.

Felix cleared his throat and stood, the coward trying to gather fake composure. “Your Highness,” he bowed low, “we are only just now hearing about these attacks. If we had known sooner, we would have...”

“Speak for yourself,” Rowan cut him off, his voice low and razor-sharp.

He turned his glare to the others. “What about the rest of you? You all didn’t hear either? Like Felix?” His voice dripped with poison as he pointed at each of them. None dared meet his eyes. Heads lowered like sinners in front of a god they had betrayed.

Then Alaric, the white-haired one, stood up from the third seat on the right. “Your Highness…” he bowed, his voice shaky, “I… I did hear something. But I was too scared to speak. I...” He stopped, choking on his words like something clawed his throat shut.

Rowan’s eyes blazed. “I don’t want cowards as elders in my pack. You’re dismissed.”

Alaric’s knees buckled as guards came to drag him out. He gasped for air, coughing violently as they pulled him away. That was Rowan’s doing. He hadn’t even touched him physically. His aura alone had the power to silence, to choke.

The hall turned ice cold. No one moved. Not even me.

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Everyone bowed again. Guards, Felda, who had just returned from treating the injuredand Velin, who clutched her royal golden gown like it could protect her from the storm sitting on that throne.

Then Rowan stood up.

“Why are you elders if you can’t do the right thing?” he stepped down the stairs, each step heavy with rage and disgust. “Why are you here if you can’t even face death?”

The silence bled thick.

“Do you enjoy watching us get slaughtered? Like we’re nothing? Like we have no families?” His voice cracked like a whip.

He stopped in front of one of the trembling elders and leaned close. “Would you still be silent if it were your wife?” he asked, cold and quiet.

The elder couldn’t even respond. His mouth moved but nothing came out. Rowan touched his chin with two fingers, raising it gently like a lover about to give a final kiss.

“You’re dismissed.”

“No... please, Your Highness, I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!”

Too late.

Rowan’s wolf roared out of him, filling the room with a savage growl that echoed against the stone. The guards didn’t wait for an order. They grabbed the elder as he fought, begging, clawing to stay, but Rowan had already turned away.

“You’re all cowards!” he spat. “All you know is money. Comfort. Privilege. None of you care about the lives of the wolves here unless it’s your own family.”

He walked to the center of the room again, chest rising slowly. “I’ve let too many things slide. But now I have time for you all. I have time to make examples.”

Then his voice dropped. Dead cold. “Look up.”

And we did. Like puppets yanked by a single invisible string. His aura had lessened, just a bit...but the fear? That stayed. It always stayed with him.

“I want a full report. From any one of you,” he said, scanning the room.

Elixir stood.

Felda’s breath hitched in her seat. I didn’t need to look to know her hands were clenched, her jaw tight. Her father. But he was different. Even Rowan respected him. Trusted him. He was a powerful white wolf and the only one brave... or stupid enough to speak right now.

“Your Highness,” Elixir bowed low, his voice steady, “it started with the Silver Moon pack. They gave a small warning to the wolves living with them, but it was unclear. No formal announcement. Not to us. Not to you.”

He bowed again.

“That’s why we didn’t know. Not until the injured men were brought to the palace today.”

Rowan said nothing. He stared.

Then he clapped twice.

None of us joined him.

The sound of it alone made us flinch. It wasn’t a gesture of praise. It was a warning.

“I knew I had at least one elder left who wasn’t useless,” he said, then pointed at Elixir. “Sit.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Elixir murmured before returning to his seat.

Felda sighed. Relief. I saw it. Her father had walked through fire and came out alive.

“Now that we all know the threat we face,” Rowan moved toward Lambo, “what’s your solution?”

Lambo stood and bowed. “Your Highness, may you live long. I believe… we should send a message to the Alpha of the Silver Moon pack. Ask him to stop this madness.”

A message?

What the hell was that?

He still didn’t understand the kind of man Rowan was?

Rowan tilted his head. “And if he doesn’t stop?”

Lambo hesitated. “Then we… we ask our people to come home.”

Rowan let out a slow breath. For a moment, it seemed like he was considering it.

But I knew him.

He was letting the rope slack just before he hanged someone with it.

“Who among you supports Elder Lambo?”

He stepped back to view the room.

One… two… three hands raised. A fourth followed.

“Stand up. Let me see your faces.”

They stood.

And instantly started screaming.

One clutched his stomach. Another hit his throat. Two more grabbed their heads like their skulls were splitting open.

“Idiots,” Rowan muttered, “nothing but hollow skulls. I wonder how any of you even became elders.”

He hadn’t even fully released his aura. Just a taste. And still, it brought them to their knees.

Then he let go.

Their bodies dropped back into their chairs with loud thuds, pain etched into their faces.

Then he turned to me.

“What do you think, Finnian?”

I rose.

The murmurs started immediately. Whispers slithered through the elders like rats in a tomb.

They didn’t want me here. Never did. I was too cold. Too blunt. Too loyal to Rowan.

I bowed. “Your Highness.”

My voice was cold. Flat. No emotion. I only showed what needed to be shown.

“It’s simple,” I said, locking eyes with my brother, “We retaliate.”

The murmurs turned into noise.

“Silence!” Rowan snapped, his voice a hammer against the chaos.

The room died again.

I didn’t break eye contact. “An eye for an eye.”

Rowan stared at me.

And then… he smiled.

Not the kind that reached the eyes.

The kind that promised blood.