The backlash didn't arrive loudly.
It arrived efficiently.
By the next morning, nothing looked different, no public rebuke, no whispered condemnation that I could hear outright.
Instead, permissions stalled. Messages went unanswered. Training schedules shifted without notice.
Doors didn't close in my face.
They simply stopped opening.
I noticed it first when my access to the outer patrol briefings disappeared from the slate. Then when a request for additional resources for the transparency trial sat untouched long past the acceptable window.
Subtle. Clean. Deniable.
Rhea noticed too.
"They're starving you," she said quietly as we sparred. "Not openly. Just enough to make you ineffective."
"They can try," I replied, deflecting her strike and pivoting away. "Visibility already exists. Starving it only proves my point."
She gave me a sharp look. "You're assuming people will connect the dots."
"I'm counting on frustration," I said. "It talks."
The rival chose that afternoon to reappear.
Not privately.
Publicly but in a way that looked accidental.
He joined a cluster of wolves near the eastern courtyard, laughing easily, voice carrying just far enough to reach those passing by. I wasn't supposed to be there, which made it perfect.
"I admire conviction," he was saying.
"Truly. It's refreshing. But conviction without infrastructure collapses under its own weight."
Someone murmured agreement.
"And when it does," he continued smoothly, "the fallout doesn't land on ideals. It lands on people."
I stepped into the circle.
"Funny," I said. "I was thinking the same thing about sabotage disguised as patience."
The conversation froze.
He turned, surprise flickering briefly before amusement took over. "Ah. There you are."
"Here I am," I agreed. "Say it again.
Louder."
A few wolves shifted uncomfortably.
"I don't see the point," he said lightly. "This isn't an argument."
"No," I said. "It's a positioning."
His smile widened. "Everything is."
"Then let's be honest about yours," I replied. "You're not worried about instability. You're worried about exposure."
A ripple went through the group.
"That's an accusation," he said.
"So deny it," I challenged.
He tilted his head. "I don't deny truths that haven't fully surfaced."
Clever. Dangerous.
"You're enjoying this," I said.
"I enjoy clarity," he corrected. "And you've brought a great deal of it. People are watching now. Evaluating outcomes."
"Yes," I said. "Including who benefits when systems fail quietly."
The smile faded, just a fraction.
"Careful," he murmured. "You're assuming moral authority you haven't been granted."
"I don't need permission to observe patterns," I replied. "And your timing is impeccable."
He leaned closer. "You mistake influence for immunity."
"No," I said softly. "I understand leverage.
That's why I don't hide mine."
The group dispersed soon after, tension clinging to the air like static.
By evening, the first formal complaint arrived.
Not against me.
Against the process.
An elder summoned me to review "concerns regarding operational disruption." The language was careful, the framing immaculate.
Transparency, they claimed, was slowing response. Causing confusion.
Undermining confidence.
I read between every line.
You're making us uncomfortable. Stop.
"I'll need access logs," I said when they finished. "To compare response times pre- and post-adjustment."
The elder frowned. "That level of data isn't typically shared."
"Then this isn't an evaluation," I replied.
"It's a narrative."
Silence.
"We'll consider your request," she said.
Which meant no.
That night, the alpha joined me on the overlook without warning.
"They're consolidating," he said.
"I know."
"You've accelerated their timeline."
"I didn't plan to move slowly," I said.
He studied the camp below. "They'll try to isolate you next."
"They already are."
"No," he said. "Personally."
The word landed heavy.
"Then I'll document it," I said. "Publicly."
"That will provoke escalation."
"Good."
He turned to face me fully. "You're playing a long game with people who've survived centuries by outlasting pressure."
"And they're underestimating how exhausting it is to be watched," I replied.
"Fatigue makes mistakes."
He exhaled. "You're pushing for a confrontation."
"I'm making one inevitable," I corrected.
The confrontation arrived sooner than expected.
Two days later, an emergency assembly was called and not by the council, but by a collective request from ranking members across divisions.
Grassroots.
That was new.
The rival stood at the center when I arrived, flanked not by elders, but by peers.
"Let's stop circling the issue," he said when the murmurs settled. "This experiment is destabilizing. Productivity is down. Morale is fractured."
I stepped forward. "According to whose metrics?"
"Mine," he replied calmly. "And others."
"Show them."
A pause.
"Some data is confidential."
"So was the harm that made this necessary," I said. "Until it wasn't."
He smiled thinly. "You're exhausting people."
"Yes," I said. "Because accountability is tiring."
A voice rose from the crowd. "That's not fair—"
"No," I interrupted gently. "What's unfair is pretending silence is neutral."
The alpha moved closer, presence grounding but watchful.
The rival turned to him. "This isn't sustainable."
The alpha didn't answer immediately.
Then: "Neither was what came before."
The air shifted.
The rival's composure cracked, not visibly, but in the way his jaw tightened.
"So you'll back her?" he asked.
"I'll back process," the alpha replied. "Even when it's uncomfortable.
"Even when it costs you alliances?"
"Yes."
The rival nodded slowly. "Then let's formalize the cost."
A document appeared, already prepared.
A motion to limit my scope further, strip provisional authority, reassign oversight to a committee he chaired.
A cage disguised as governance.
I took the document, skimmed it once.
Then looked up. "You should've brought two versions."
He raised a brow. "Why?"
"Because this one assumes I'm negotiating," I said, and tore it cleanly in half.
Gasps rippled.
"I'm not," I continued. "You want containment. I want accountability. If this becomes a power struggle, you lose deniability."
"You're bluffing," he said quietly.
"No," I replied. "I'm documenting."
The alpha stepped forward. "Meeting adjourned."
The crowd dispersed in fractured clusters, energy buzzing.
Later, alone, the weight finally settled.
This wasn't theory anymore.
It was war but a civilized one. Smiles sharpened into weapons. Rules bent without breaking.
And I was no longer reacting.
I was being targeted.
As I stood in the quiet, I realized something essential:
Transparency hadn't weakened me.
It had forced my enemies into the open.
And now, I could finally see where to strike back.