The day after my conversation with the alpha, the pack stopped pretending.
Whatever quiet agreement had held them together fractured in subtle but unmistakable ways.
Wolves no longer hid their curiosity behind politeness. Conversations didn't pause when I approached, they bent, reshaped themselves around me, as if my presence were a stone dropped into moving water.
I had become unavoidable.
Rhea noticed it too.
"You feel it, don't you?" she said as we trained that morning.
I did. Every step I took felt weighted, deliberate. Not because I was tired, but because every movement carried meaning now. Every action could be read, interpreted, misinterpreted.
"I feel like a rumor," I said.
She snorted softly. "That's because you are."
We worked in silence for a while. My body moved smoothly now, instincts and intention aligning in a way that felt almost… natural. That unsettled me more than struggling ever had.
"You're improving too fast," Rhea said finally.
I glanced at her. "That's bad?"
"It's dangerous," she replied. "Fast growth attracts attention. And attention invites challenges."
As if summoned by her words, I felt a presence approach.
Not the alpha.
Him.
The rival moved with the ease of someone who belonged everywhere. He didn't hesitate as he stepped into the clearing, his smile polite enough to be harmless, sharp enough to be anything but.
"Morning," he said.
Rhea stiffened beside me.
"State your business," she replied flatly.
He raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Just observing."
"Observation has limits," she said.
"So does authority," he countered, gaze flicking briefly toward me.
That was when I knew, this wasn't about curiosity anymore.
This was positioning.
"I'll leave you to it," Rhea said quietly to me, her tone warning. Then she turned and walked away.
Cowardly, a voice whispered in my head.
Or smart.
The rival waited until she was out of earshot.
"You're handling this well," he said.
"I didn't ask for feedback."
"No," he agreed. "You didn't ask for any of this."
I folded my arms. "You keep appearing where I am. That's not coincidence."
"Of course not," he said easily. "I wanted to see how you'd change once the alpha made his expectations clear."
"And?" I asked.
"And you're still undecided."
My jaw tightened. "You don't know me."
"I know leverage," he replied. "And you're standing at the intersection of several pressures. That makes you valuable."
"I'm not for sale."
He laughed softly. "Everyone is. The price just varies."
I stepped back, instincts flaring. "If you're trying to threaten me, you're doing a poor job."
"Oh, I'm not threatening you," he said. "I'm warning you."
"About what?"
"Staying neutral," he replied. "Neutrality only works when power ignores you.
That's no longer your situation."
I said nothing.
He leaned closer, voice dropping. "Sooner or later, you'll have to choose who benefits from your presence."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then others will choose for you."
He straightened, smile returning. "Think about it."
By the time he walked away, my hands were shaking.
That night, the alpha summoned me.
Not to the council chamber.
To the forest.
We walked side by side, the moon casting pale light through the trees. The silence between us felt different now and heavier, charged with things unsaid.
"They're moving faster than I expected," he said eventually.
"They?" I asked.
"Those who see opportunity," he replied.
"And those who fear change."
"Which do you see?" I asked.
He glanced at me. "Both."
I stopped walking. "You told me to choose."
"Yes."
"But you didn't tell me how," I said. "Or what happens if I choose wrong."
He turned fully toward me. "There is no wrong choice. Only consequences."
"That's not comforting."
"It's honest."
I swallowed. "If I stay under your protection… what do you expect from me?"
"Visibility," he said. "Transparency. And restraint."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you stand alone."
The words settled into my chest like stones.
"I'm tired of being managed," I said quietly.
"I know."
"I'm tired of being talked about instead of talked to."
"I know."
I met his gaze. "Then stop deciding for me."
A long pause followed.
Finally, he nodded once. "Very well."
Hope flickered.
"Tomorrow," he continued, "you will train with the pack again."
My breath caught. "Without restrictions?"
"With awareness," he corrected. "You will be tested."
By whom?
I didn't ask. I already knew.
The next morning, the clearing buzzed with anticipation.
Everyone was there.
No special announcement. No formal challenge. Just an understanding hanging thick in the air.
I stepped forward.
Eyes followed.
The rival stood among them, expression unreadable.
"So," someone muttered. "She's back."
Rhea met my gaze from the edge of the circle. She didn't smile. But she didn't look worried either.
The alpha stood apart, watching.
Waiting.
A wolf stepped forward, older, respected, not openly hostile. A measured choice.
"I'll spar," he said.
I nodded.
The moment we began, I felt it, the difference. This wasn't about proving strength. It was about reading intention, adjusting without overreacting, holding my ground without dominating.
When it ended, we were both breathing hard.
Neither of us fell.
Neither of us won.
The clearing was silent.
"That's it?" someone scoffed.
I turned slowly, meeting the rival's gaze.
"You expected blood?"
He smiled thinly. "I expected certainty."
I straightened. "Then listen carefully."
The pack stilled.
"I'm not here to lead," I said. "And I'm not here to submit. I won't be used as a symbol or a weapon."
Murmurs rippled.
"I will choose my actions," I continued.
"And I'll accept the consequences of them."
The alpha's gaze sharpened.
The rival's smile faded.
For the first time, I felt something shift in my favor.
Not power.
Agency.
That night, alone in my quarters, I finally slept without dreaming.
Because for the first time since everything changed, I wasn't standing still.