The first thing I learned about staying was this:
No one ever says thank you to the one who agrees to be contained.
The days after the confrontation blurred together, stitched by routine and quiet scrutiny. Life in the pack didn't pause for political tension. Wolves are still trained.
Still arguing.
Still laughed around fires at night. But every interaction now came with a pause—a recalculation.
I was no longer just a wolf.
I was a condition.
Training intensified, not in volume, but in focus. Rhea pushed precision over strength, control over instinct. Every movement had to be intentional, measured.
"Power without discipline is just noise," she said as she circled me during a sparring drill. "And noise draws attention."
I lunged, twisted, landed cleanly this time.
My breath came steady, my balance firm.
"And attention is bad?" I asked.
"Unmanaged attention is lethal."
She wasn't wrong.
I felt eyes on me constantly—not aggressive, not curious. Strategic. Even casual conversations felt staged, like wolves were choosing their words carefully, gauging my reactions.
The leash wasn't visible.
But it was tight.
The alpha kept his distance, which somehow made his presence heavier.
When he entered a space, conversations shifted subtly. People straightened.
Decisions aligned faster.
And when his gaze landed on me, it lingered just long enough to remind me that I was still under consideration.
Not as a threat.
Not as an ally.
As an investment.
That realization unsettled me more than hostility ever could.
The council called me in again three days later.
This time, I didn't hesitate at the entrance.
I walked in like I belonged there.
The elders sat in their usual semi-circle, faces impassive. The alpha stood at the far end, arms folded, watching me with an expression that revealed nothing.
"You've complied with the conditions," one elder said. "That hasn't gone unnoticed."
"I didn't realize obedience required commentary."
A few brows lifted. No one reprimanded me.
"That tone," another elder said mildly, "is precisely why we're here."
I crossed my arms. "Then speak plainly."
They exchanged glances before the alpha spoke.
"We're assigning you a liaison."
My jaw tightened. "I already have supervision."
"This is different," he said. "This person will accompany you during inter-pack interactions. Events. Meetings."
"A handler," I said flatly.
"An escort," the elder corrected.
I laughed once. "You're worried I'll embarrass you."
"We're worried you'll destabilize things," he replied. "There's a difference."
"And who did you pick?"
The alpha's gaze sharpened. "Me."
The word hit harder than I expected.
"You?" I repeated.
"I have the authority," he said calmly. "And the visibility. If you're seen with me, fewer people will test boundaries."
"That's not protection," I said. "That's display."
"Yes," he agreed. "Exactly."
I clenched my fists. "So now I'm a message."
"You were already one," he said. "This just clarifies the wording."
I wanted to argue. To push back.
But I understood the strategy.
Walking beside him meant fewer open challenges. Fewer whispered alliances forming behind my back.
It also meant zero privacy.
"I'll agree," I said slowly. "On one condition."
The room stilled.
"I choose when I walk alone," I continued.
"Not often. Not recklessly. But sometimes."
Silence stretched.
Then the alpha nodded. "Granted."
The meeting ended soon after.
Outside, the air felt heavier.
"You didn't have to do that," I said as we walked side by side through the compound.
"Yes," he replied. "I did."
"You're putting yourself in the line of fire."
"I'm already there."
I glanced at him. "Why?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"Because visibility cuts both ways," he said finally. "If someone wants to reach you, they'll have to go through me."
That should have been reassuring.
Instead, it felt like another kind of cage.
The first public appearance happened that evening.
A formal gathering, elders from allied packs, neutral observers, polished words layered over sharp intent. I wore dark clothes, simple, unadorned. The alpha's presence beside me was unmistakable, his authority a steady pressure at my shoulder.
Conversations paused as we entered.
I felt them measuring the distance between us.
Too close, and it would spark rumors.
Too far, and it would invite challenges.
We walked the line carefully.
The rival appeared halfway through the evening, expression smooth as ever. His eyes flicked between us, something calculating sparking behind his smile.
"Interesting arrangement," he said when he approached. "I didn't realize escort services were included in the alpha's duties."
I kept my voice calm. "It's amazing what you learn when you stop speculating and start listening."
His gaze sharpened. "Careful."
"Why?" I asked. "Because I'm being watched?"
"Yes," he said softly. "By everyone."
The alpha spoke then, his tone even. "This conversation is over."
The rival held his gaze for a long moment before inclining his head. "For now."
As he walked away, I exhaled slowly.
"That's going to get worse," I said.
"Yes," the alpha agreed. "It always does before it gets quieter."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we adjust."
Again with that word.
Later, as the gathering wound down, I found a moment alone near the edge of the courtyard. The night air cooled my skin, grounding me.
I felt him before I heard him.
"You handled yourself well," the alpha said.
"I didn't say anything remarkable."
"You didn't need to."
I turned to face him. "How long does this last?"
"As long as necessary."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only honest one."
I studied his face, searching for cracks.
"Do you ever regret choosing control over trust?"
He met my gaze steadily. "Control is what allows trust to exist."
I wasn't convinced.
As I returned to my quarters that night, exhaustion settled into my bones. Not physical. Mental.
Staying was work.
Constant awareness. Constant restraint.
The leash was still invisible.
But I could feel it when I breathed too deeply.
When I spoke too boldly.
When I imagined a future that didn't require permission.
And yet—
As I lay awake in the dark, one thought surfaced with unsettling clarity:
If this was what containment felt like…
Then freedom, when it finally came, would be explosive.