I didn't sleep.
I lay still while the night crept past my window, listening to the compound breathe. Wolves shifted in their quarters.
Guards changed positions. Somewhere far off, something howled, a warning or a reminder, I couldn't tell.
Twenty-four hours.
They hadn't framed it as an ultimatum, but that's what it was. Decide who I was going to be, or let them decide for me.
I rose before dawn, pulling on clothes with deliberate care. Not armor. Not softness.
Something neutral. Something that wouldn't give them a story before I spoke.
The air outside was cool, sharp enough to clear my head. I walked the perimeter path alone, my granted freedom, thin as it was and letting the rhythm of my steps slow my thoughts.
If I said yes, I'd be visible. Protected.
Useful.
If I said no, I'd be uncertain. Watched.
Replaceable.
Neither felt like victory.
Rhea found me near the eastern ridge, leaning against a stone marker etched with old symbols.
"You look like someone standing at a cliff," she said.
"I feel like someone being nudged toward one."
She studied me. "What are you leaning toward?"
"I don't know yet."
"That's honest," she said. "Dangerous, but honest."
I glanced at her. "What would you do?"
She was quiet for a long moment. "I'd choose the option that leaves me room to change my mind later."
"That sounds like a trick."
"It is," she said. "Survival usually is."
The council chamber filled slowly that afternoon. The atmosphere was different this time but tenser and expectant.
Decisions always left a residue in the air, like static.
The rival was already there, posture relaxed, confidence sharpened to a fine edge. The elders took their seats. The alpha stood apart, gaze fixed on me as I entered.
No encouragement.
No warning.
Just attention.
"Have you reached a decision?" the central elder asked.
I inhaled once, steadying myself. "Yes."
The room leaned in, metaphorically if not physically.
"I'll accept the role," I said, "with conditions."
The rival's smile returned instantly. The elders exchanged approving glances.
The alpha didn't react at all.
"State them," the elder said.
"I will not act as a mouthpiece," I continued. "I speak for myself, not for leadership. If my presence is meant to signal stability, then my honesty is part of that signal."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
"I won't participate in enforcement," I added. "I won't be used to pressure dissenters into silence."
The rival's eyes narrowed.
"And finally," I said, voice steady, "this role is temporary. Reviewable. If I decide it's compromising my autonomy, I step away."
Silence fell.
"That's highly irregular," one elder said.
"So am I," I replied.
The rival stepped forward. "You're asking for authority without accountability."
"No," I said calmly. "I'm asking for accountability that includes consent."
The alpha spoke then. "She's not wrong."
Every head turned toward him.
"This arrangement only works if she believes it does," he continued. "Forced alignment will fail."
The elder hesitated. Then nodded slowly.
"Agreed."
The words landed heavier than I expected.
It was done.
Afterward, the room emptied quickly.
Decisions always scattered people, everyone eager to reposition themselves in the new reality.
I stayed behind, fingers clenched at my sides.
"So," I said finally. "That's it?"
The alpha approached. "That's the shape of your yes."
"It doesn't feel like victory."
"It shouldn't," he said. "It's leverage."
"On who?"
"On everyone," he replied. "Including me."
That startled me.
"You've tied yourself to me," I said.
"Publicly."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because if this fails," he said quietly, "it needs to fail where everyone can see it."
I studied him. "You're gambling."
"Yes."
"With me."
"Yes."
I didn't know what to say to that.
The fallout was immediate.
By evening, the compound buzzed with reactions. Some wolves congratulated me cautiously. Others avoided me outright. A few watched with open resentment.
I felt heavier and not because of responsibility, but because of expectation.
Everyone wanted something from me now.
Stability. Reassurance. Advantage.
The rival cornered me briefly near the council wing.
"You played this well," he said. "For now."
"For now seems to be your favorite phrase."
"It's a realistic one," he replied. "Enjoy the influence while it lasts."
I met his gaze. "You're already planning for when it doesn't."
He smiled. "Of course."
Later, alone in my quarters, I sat at the small table near the window, staring at my hands.
I hadn't said yes to obedience.
I hadn't said yes to ownership.
But I had said yes to visibility.
And visibility came with consequences I was only beginning to understand.
That night, as the compound settled, I felt something else settle with it.
Not peace.
Momentum.
The system had adjusted around me, reshaping itself to accommodate my presence.
Whether it would break or bend that was still an open question.
But one thing was certain:
I was no longer standing at the edge of the fault line.
I was standing on it.