The pack did not confront me openly.
That would have been easier.
Instead, they changed around me.
I noticed it first at breakfast. The usual noise of the den, voices overlapping, chairs scraping and casual arguments had softened when I entered. Not silence. Not avoidance. Something more careful.
Wolves shifted to make space without being asked. Someone slid a bowl closer to me without meeting my eyes.
I sat slowly, heart thudding.
No one challenged me. No one mocked me.
That should have felt like victory.
It didn't.
It felt like standing on ground that had not finished deciding whether it would hold my weight.
Rhea watched me from across the room, her expression unreadable. When our eyes met, she gave a single, sharp nod.
Not approval. Recognition.
After breakfast, training was canceled.
That alone set nerves on edge.
We gathered in the clearing, wolves murmuring quietly among themselves, tension threading the air. I stood near the edge, arms folded, pretending not to notice the glances thrown my way.
The alpha arrived without ceremony.
The moment he stepped into the clearing, everything stilled and quiet. Conversations died mid-sentence. Bodies straightened.
Instinct pulled them into alignment around him like iron filings to a magnet.
Including mine.
I hated that.
"You all felt the shift yesterday," he said, voice calm, carrying easily. "Ignoring it would be foolish."
A murmur rippled through the group.
"Kade," he continued, eyes sliding briefly to my former opponent, "acted within expectation. So did she."
My stomach tightened at the sound of that single word.
She.
Not my name.
"Strength does not always announce itself," the alpha said. "Sometimes it waits."
His gaze landed on me then, heavy and deliberate. I held it, refusing to lower my eyes.
"From this point forward," he continued, "sparring rotations will be adjusted."
Adjusted.
That word carried weight.
I felt it immediately, how heads turned, how ears flicked, how some wolves stiffened.
"She will train under observation," he said.
"Direct challenge requires permission."
My breath caught.
I opened my mouth before I could stop myself. "Permission from who?"
The clearing went deadly quiet.
Rhea's eyes snapped to me. Someone hissed softly under their breath.
The alpha didn't look surprised.
"From me," he replied evenly.
Something cold slid down my spine.
"Why?"
"Because you are unbalanced," he said, not unkindly. "And unbalanced wolves attract trouble."
I clenched my fists. "So this is about control."
A pause.
"Yes," he said.
The honesty startled me.
"This is about control," he repeated.
"Yours, and the pack's."
I swallowed. "You don't trust me."
"I trust you not to know what you are yet."
That landed harder than accusation.
The meeting ended shortly after. Wolves dispersed slowly, tension clinging to them like fog. I remained where I was, rooted to the spot, anger buzzing beneath my skin.
Rhea approached cautiously. "You shouldn't have challenged him."
"I didn't challenge," I snapped. "I asked."
She sighed. "Around here, those are the same thing."
I turned away, jaw tight.
Later that day, I felt it, the shift from curiosity to testing.
It came in small ways. A wolf stepping into my path a second too long. A stare held just past politeness. Conversations that stopped when I joined them, then resumed with forced normalcy.
No outright hostility.
Pressure.
They were waiting to see if I'd push back.
I didn't.
That unsettled them more.
By evening, the forest felt like the only place I could breathe. I walked until the den's noise faded, the trees closing in around me like a protective wall.
"You're isolating yourself."
I didn't turn. "You're following me."
"Yes."
I exhaled slowly. "Is that part of the control too?"
The alpha stepped into view, expression calm. "Part of the responsibility."
"I didn't ask for it."
"No one ever does."
I crossed my arms. "You're afraid of me."
That earned a sharp look. "I don't fear you."
"You're afraid of what I represent," I corrected. "A variable you didn't plan for."
Silence stretched.
"You don't seek dominance," he said finally. "You don't posture or provoke. That makes others uneasy."
"Because they don't know how to fight something that isn't loud?"
"Yes."
I laughed quietly, without humor. "Neither do I."
He studied me for a long moment. "Power without hunger is rare."
"I have hunger," I said softly. "Just not the kind you expect."
His gaze sharpened. "For what?"
I hesitated. "Understanding."
Something in his expression shifted then but something thoughtful.
"You won't find that here," he said. "Not easily."
"Then why keep me?"
"Because sending you away would be dangerous," he said. "For you. And for others."
That didn't comfort me.
That night, the dreams returned.
I was running, not fleeing, not chasing, just moving. The forest opened before me, paths revealing themselves without effort. I felt whole. Balanced.
When I woke, my heart was steady.
Too steady.
The next morning, Rhea pulled me aside.
"You're being watched more closely now."
"I noticed."
"Some think you're being protected."
"And others?"
"They think you're being groomed."
The word made my stomach turn.
"For what?" I asked.
Rhea's mouth tightened. "Influence."
I found the alpha later that day, standing at the edge of the clearing, watching the pack train.
"You're changing how they see me," I said without preamble.
"They're changing how they see you," he corrected.
"By your direction."
"Yes."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "You can't cage something you don't understand."
His gaze slid to me, sharp and assessing.
"I'm not caging you."
"What do you call it then?"
"Containment."
I laughed bitterly. "That's just a prettier word."
"Perhaps," he said. "But it keeps you alive."
"And at what cost?"
He didn't answer.
As I walked away, the truth settled heavily in my chest.
I had crossed an invisible line.
The pack no longer saw me as weak.
But strength came with strings.
And the alpha was holding them.
Deep inside, the quiet thing stirred again, not pleased this time.
Alert.
Watching.
Learning the shape of its cage.