Chapter 16
title: "Chapter 16" wordCount: 3550
I lunge before anyone can stop me.
The gray wolf's eyes widen. He sidesteps but I am already there, already shifting mid-leap, my human hands becoming claws that rake across his scarred muzzle and reopen wounds that should have killed him years ago.
He yelps. Stumbles back.
The other two wolves circle but I do not care, I do not see them, there is only him and the memory of my mother's throat torn open and the way he looked at me after, like I was nothing, like she was nothing, like our entire pack was just—
"Sloane." Declan's voice cuts through the red haze. "Stop."
"No."
"This is not the trial."
"I do not care."
The gray wolf recovers. Shakes his massive head. Blood drips from the reopened scar and his lips peel back from teeth that are still stained with my family's death even though it has been eight years, even though he has probably killed dozens since then, even though—
He shifts back to human form.
I know that face. Older now. Harder. But I know it.
"Hello, Sloane Carrigan," he says. His voice is gravel and smoke. "I wondered if you would remember me."
My wolf screams for his blood. My human side wants answers first.
"You killed her."
"I killed many people that night." He tilts his head. Studies me like I am something interesting under glass. "Your mother fought well. Better than most."
Declan moves between us. His back to me, facing the killer, and his shoulders are rigid with the kind of control that means he is one breath away from losing it entirely.
"State your name," Declan says.
"Rowan Kade." The man smiles. It does not reach his eyes. "Second of the Blackwater Pack. And challenger for the position of Alpha."
"You are not eligible."
"Garrett Voss says otherwise."
Tobias steps forward. His phone is already out, already scrolling through what I assume is Conclave law. "Blackwater Pack was dissolved four years ago after their Alpha was executed for—"
"For killing the Carrigan Pack without sanction," Rowan Kade finishes. "Yes. I am aware. I was there."
The watch on my wrist ticks. Eleven forty-seven. Always eleven forty-seven.
"Then you admit to the crime," Tobias says.
"I admit to following my Alpha's orders. Which is not a crime." Rowan's smile widens. "The Conclave investigated. They found our Alpha guilty. They executed him. The rest of us were pardoned and absorbed into other packs. All very legal. All very proper."
"Absorbed into which pack," Declan says. His voice is too quiet. Too controlled.
"Voss territory."
Of course. Of course Garrett Voss would collect the wolves who murdered my family. Of course he would keep them close, keep them loyal, keep them ready for exactly this moment when he could use them to destroy me.
Mira's hand finds my elbow. Squeezes once. A warning or a comfort, I cannot tell which.
"The trial," the rust-red wolf says. He shifts back to human. Younger than Rowan. Maybe twenty-five. Lean and hungry-looking. "We are here for the trial."
"Yes," the black wolf agrees. Also shifting. Female. Scarred hands and a face that has seen too many fights. "The second trial. Strategy and law. Not combat."
"Though if Sloane Carrigan wants to make it combat," Rowan says, "I am happy to oblige."
"She is injured," Declan says.
"She accepted the trial."
"Under duress."
"Under Conclave law." Rowan's eyes find mine over Declan's shoulder. "Unless you want to forfeit your claim, Sloane Carrigan. Walk away. Go back to whatever hole you have been hiding in for the past eight years. No one would blame you."
The red haze clears. Slowly. Reluctantly.
He wants me to attack him. Wants me to break protocol, violate trial rules, give Garrett Voss the excuse he needs to disqualify me entirely.
Not my circus.
Except it is. It has always been my circus. Since the night Rowan Kade stood over my mother's body and smiled.
"Yeah, no," I say. "We do the trial."
Rowan's smile falters. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to see that he expected me to break, expected the grief and rage to override everything else.
He does not know me at all.
"Ten minutes," the massive man from before says. He is still human. Still wearing that expensive suit. Still smiling like this is all very entertaining. "The trial begins in ten minutes. Challengers will proceed to the north clearing. Sloane Carrigan will remain here with her second."
"I am her second," Declan says.
"No. You are her mate. Tobias Crane is her registered second."
Tobias nods. "I will accompany her."
"Declan Thorne will observe with the rest of the pack." The man checks his watch. "Nine minutes now."
The three challengers leave. Rowan Kade looks back once. His eyes find mine. He touches two fingers to the scar on his muzzle—the scar I just reopened—and his smile is a promise of violence.
Then they are gone.
Mira works fast. Her hands glow with that soft green light as she presses them against the claw marks on my ribs, the bite on my shoulder, the dozen smaller wounds that are still bleeding.
"This is insane," she mutters. "You need rest. You need food. You need—"
"I need to win."
"You need to survive." She pulls back. The wounds are closed but the skin is still angry red, still tender. "That is not the same thing."
Declan paces. Three steps one way. Three steps back. His hands open and close at his sides like he wants to hit something but there is nothing to hit.
"Rowan Kade," he says. "I should have known."
"You know him?"
"I know of him. He was one of the wolves who testified at the inquiry. Said he was following orders. Said he did not know the Carrigan Pack was under Conclave protection." Declan's jaw works. "They believed him."
"Or they wanted to believe him."
"Yes."
Tobias finishes whatever he was reading on his phone. Looks up. His expression is grim.
"The second trial is a scenario," he says. "You will be presented with a situation that requires navigating pack law and Conclave regulations. You must find a solution that does not violate either. The challenger who finds the best solution wins."
"Best according to who."
"A panel of three judges. All Conclave members. All chosen by Garrett Voss."
Of course.
"What kind of scenario," I ask.
"It varies. Sometimes it is a territorial dispute. Sometimes a question of succession. Sometimes—" He hesitates.
"Sometimes what."
"Sometimes it is a test of whether you will sacrifice pack loyalty for Conclave law. Or vice versa."
The watch ticks. Eleven forty-seven.
"And if I refuse to choose?"
"Then you fail."
Mira stands. Wipes her hands on her jeans. "You have five minutes. Drink this." She hands me a bottle of something that smells like dirt and tastes worse. "It will help with the pain."
I drink it. She is right. It helps. Not much, but enough.
Declan stops pacing. Looks at me. Really looks at me, the way he used to before everything went wrong between us, before the mate bond became a chain instead of a choice.
"You do not have to do this," he says.
"Yes. I do."
"Rowan Kade wants you dead. Garrett Voss wants you to fail. The entire trial is designed to destroy you."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because if I walk away now, I prove them right. I prove that I am weak. That I am broken. That the night they killed my pack, they killed me too." My nails dig into my palms. Leave crescents. "I am not giving them that."
Something shifts in his expression. Not quite pride. Not quite pain. Something in between.
"That is not the whole truth," he says quietly.
He is right. It is not.
The whole truth is that I need to look Rowan Kade in the eyes and make him understand that he did not win that night. That my mother's death meant something. That I am still here, still fighting, still refusing to disappear.
But I do not say that. Cannot say that. Because if I start talking about my mother, I will not stop, and I do not have time to fall apart right now.
"Two minutes," Tobias says.
Declan reaches out. His hand hovers near my shoulder, not quite touching, asking permission.
I nod.
His palm settles against my collarbone. Warm. Steady. The mate bond hums between us, not the overwhelming pull it was before, but something quieter. Something that feels almost like trust.
"I will be watching," he says. "If Rowan Kade tries anything—"
"He will not. Not during the trial. He wants to beat me legally. Wants everyone to see that I am not worthy." I meet his eyes. "So I am going to prove him wrong."
His thumb brushes against my pulse point. Once. Twice.
Then he steps back.
"Go," he says. "Win."
The north clearing is lit by torches. Old-fashioned, dramatic, the kind of thing Garrett Voss would love because it makes everything feel more ceremonial, more important, more like we are playing roles in some grand performance instead of just fighting for survival.
The three challengers stand on one side. I stand on the other. Tobias beside me, his presence solid and grounding.
Between us, a table. On the table, a single folder.
The massive man in the expensive suit—I still do not know his name—stands at the head of the table. Behind him, three chairs. Three judges. All wearing Conclave pins. All watching me with expressions that range from curious to hostile.
Garrett Voss is not here. Of course he is not. He does not need to be. He has already stacked the deck.
"The second trial," the man says, "tests your ability to lead within the framework of Conclave law. You will be presented with a scenario. You will have ten minutes to propose a solution. The judges will evaluate your answer based on legality, practicality, and adherence to pack hierarchy."
He opens the folder. Reads.
"The scenario is as follows: A member of your pack has killed a human. The human was attacking the wolf's mate. The wolf acted in defense. However, the killing was witnessed by three other humans who have now gone to the police. The Conclave has forty-eight hours to resolve the situation before human authorities become involved. What do you do?"
My stomach drops.
This is not a test of strategy. This is a test of whether I will protect my pack or protect the Conclave's secrecy. And there is no right answer. Whatever I choose, I lose something.
Rowan Kade smiles. He knows it too.
"Challengers may confer with their seconds," the man says. "You have ten minutes. Beginning now."
Tobias leans close. His voice is barely a whisper.
"The Conclave will expect you to prioritize secrecy. That means eliminating the witnesses or altering their memories. But if you suggest that, you are admitting you would authorize killing humans to protect the pack."
"And if I do not?"
"Then you are admitting you would let a pack member face human justice. Which means prison. Which means exposure."
No right answer. Just two different kinds of wrong.
I look at the three challengers. Rowan is still smiling. The rust-red wolf looks uncertain. The black wolf is writing something down, her pen moving fast across paper.
They have answers already. Prepared answers. Because they knew what the scenario would be.
Of course they did. Garrett Voss told them.
The watch on my wrist ticks. Eleven forty-seven.
"What would you do?" I ask Tobias.
"I would find a third option."
"There is no third option."
"There is always a third option. You just have to be willing to see it."
I close my eyes. Think.
A pack member killed a human in defense of their mate. Three witnesses. Forty-eight hours.
The Conclave wants secrecy. The pack wants protection. The human authorities want justice.
What if I give them all what they want?
My eyes snap open.
"I have it," I say.
"Are you certain?"
"No. But I am out of time."
The man in the expensive suit clears his throat. "Time. Challengers will now present their solutions. Rowan Kade, you will go first."
Rowan steps forward. His voice is confident. Practiced.
"I would eliminate the witnesses. Three humans are a manageable number. We have wolves who specialize in making deaths look accidental. The police investigation would find nothing. The Conclave's secrecy remains intact. The pack member is protected."
One of the judges nods. Another writes something down.
"Kira Vance," the man says.
The black wolf steps forward. "I would alter the witnesses' memories. We have witches who can do this cleanly. The humans would remember a different attacker. The police would investigate a false lead. No one dies. Secrecy is maintained."
More nods. More notes.
"Eli Strand."
The rust-red wolf clears his throat. "I would turn the pack member over to human authorities. Claim it was a wild animal attack. Let the human justice system handle it. The Conclave's secrecy is maintained because we cooperate with the investigation."
The judges look less impressed with this one. One of them frowns.
"Sloane Carrigan."
I step forward. My ribs ache. My shoulder throbs. The taste of Mira's healing potion is still bitter on my tongue.
"I would tell the truth," I say.
Silence.
Rowan's smile widens. He thinks I just failed.
"Explain," one of the judges says.
"The human was attacking the wolf's mate. The wolf acted in defense. That is the truth. So I would go to the human authorities and tell them exactly that—a person was being attacked, another person intervened, the attacker died. Self-defense. Legal under human law."
"You would expose—"
"I would expose nothing. I would send the wolf and their mate to the police as humans. With human identification. Human backstory. Human witnesses who can corroborate that they were at the location, that the attack happened, that it was self-defense." I meet the judge's eyes. "We have wolves who live as humans. Who have human jobs, human friends, human lives. We use them. We create a narrative that satisfies human justice without revealing what we are."
Tobias's hand finds my elbow. Squeezes. Approval or warning, I cannot tell.
"And if the investigation reveals inconsistencies?" another judge asks.
"Then we have witches who can smooth those over. But if we build the story correctly from the start, there will be no inconsistencies. The humans will see what they expect to see—a tragic case of self-defense. The pack member will likely face no charges. And if they do, we have lawyers who can handle it. All human. All legal. All without breaking Conclave law or killing anyone."
The third judge leans forward. "You would risk a pack member facing human prison."
"I would risk it, yes. But I would also do everything in my power to prevent it. And if it came to that—if the human justice system failed—then we extract them. But we try the legal route first."
"That is not how we have done things."
"No. It is not. But maybe that is why humans are getting harder to fool. Maybe that is why we have more close calls every year. Because we keep using the same solutions and humans keep getting smarter." I take a breath. Let it out slowly. "You asked what I would do. That is what I would do. Find a way to protect my pack and maintain secrecy without killing anyone who does not deserve it."
Rowan laughs. It is not a pleasant sound.
"Idealistic," he says. "Naive. Weak."
"Practical," I counter. "Sustainable. And it does not leave a trail of bodies that will eventually lead back to us."
The judges confer. Quiet voices. Heads bent together.
The man in the expensive suit watches me. His expression is unreadable.
Finally, one of the judges speaks.
"We have reached a decision. Rowan Kade's solution is effective but brutal. Kira Vance's solution is clean but requires resources we may not always have. Eli Strand's solution is cowardly and abandons pack loyalty. Sloane Carrigan's solution is—"
The judge pauses. Looks at the others. They nod.
"—innovative. Risky. But within the bounds of Conclave law and pack hierarchy. We rule in favor of Sloane Carrigan."
Rowan's smile disappears.
The rust-red wolf—Eli—looks relieved.
Kira just nods, like she expected this.
"The second trial goes to Sloane Carrigan," the man says. "The third trial will commence in—"
"No."
Everyone turns. Garrett Voss steps into the clearing. He is smiling but his eyes are cold, so cold, and I know before he speaks that whatever comes next is going to be bad.
"There has been a complication," Garrett says. His voice is smooth. Friendly. Absolutely terrifying. "It seems that during the first trial, Sloane Carrigan violated Conclave law. Specifically, she used a banned technique that resulted in permanent injury to her opponent."
My blood goes cold.
"That is not true," Tobias says.
"Is it not? Marcus Thorne is currently in the medical wing with a shattered knee that will never fully heal. The healers have confirmed that the injury was caused by a technique known as the Carrigan Break—a move that was banned by the Conclave fifteen years ago due to its brutality."
"I did not—"
"You did. We have three witnesses who will testify to it. And according to Conclave law, any challenger who violates trial rules is immediately disqualified." Garrett's smile widens. "I am sorry, Sloane Carrigan. But your challenge is over."
The clearing erupts. Tobias is shouting. Declan is pushing through the crowd. Mira is at my side, her hand on my arm.
But I cannot hear any of it. Cannot process any of it.
Because Garrett Voss is holding up a tablet and on the screen is footage from the first trial and I am watching myself fight Marcus and yes, there it is, the move that shattered his knee, the move my father taught me when I was twelve, the move I have used a hundred times and never once thought was illegal because how could it be illegal, it was just—
"The Carrigan Break was banned because your father used it to kill three wolves during a challenge," Garrett says. His voice is soft. Almost kind. "Did you not know? Did he not tell you?"
The watch on my wrist ticks.
Eleven forty-seven.
The moment my family died.
The moment everything ended.
And now, apparently, the moment I lose everything all over again.
"You have one option," Garrett continues. "You can accept disqualification. Or you can invoke the Right of Testimony and prove that you did not know the technique was banned. But that would require—"
He pauses. Lets the silence stretch.
"—that would require you to testify before the full Conclave. Under oath. With a truth-teller present. And we both know there are questions you do not want to answer, Sloane Carrigan. Questions about where you have been for eight years. Questions about what you have done. Questions about—"
"I invoke the Right of Testimony," I say.
Garrett's smile falters.
"Are you certain? Because once you begin, you cannot stop. Every question must be answered. Every secret revealed."
"I am certain."
"Very well." He gestures to someone in the crowd. A woman steps forward. Gray hair. Kind eyes. A Conclave pin on her collar. "This is Vera Thorne. She is a truth-teller. She will verify your testimony."
Vera Thorne. Declan's aunt. The woman who helped raise him after his parents died.
She looks at me. Her expression is sympathetic but firm.
"I am sorry," she says quietly. "But I must do my duty."
She places her hand on my forehead and the world goes white and I feel her power sink into my mind like hooks, like chains, like—
"Did you know the Carrigan Break was banned?" Garrett asks.
"No." The word comes out before I can stop it. Truth. Undeniable.
"Did your father teach you the technique?"
"Yes."
"Did he tell you it was dangerous?"
"Yes. But not that it was banned."
Vera's power tightens. Digs deeper.
"Where have you been for the past eight years?" Garrett asks.
And there it is. The question I cannot answer. The secret that will destroy everything.
Because if I tell the truth, they will know what I did. They will know where I went. They will know about the pack I found, the pack that took me in, the pack that—
Vera's eyes widen. Her hand trembles against my forehead.
"Oh," she whispers. "Oh no."
Garrett leans forward. His smile is back. Wider than ever.
"Tell us, Sloane Carrigan. Tell us where you have been. Tell us what you have—"
The clearing explodes. Not metaphorically. Actually explodes.
Fire and smoke and the sound of something massive hitting the ground and when the smoke clears there are wolves everywhere, dozens of them, surrounding the clearing, and at the center of them is a man I have not seen in eight years, a man I thought was dead, a man who looks at me with eyes that are equal parts relief and rage and—
"Hello, daughter," my father says, and the world stops.