Chapter 47: Deep end

Chapter 47 Cameron It starts off like any other day. Eamon is teaching me the intricacies of scent tracking and territory boundaries. Lenora is watching from a fallen log, legs crossed, biting into a green apple she stole from the kitchen. Her smile tugs at the corner of her mouth every time I stumble or ask something stupid. It’s quiet, peaceful—even a little warm. Then I feel it. A shift. The birds stop chirping. The wind dies down. And both Eamon and Lenora snap to attention so fast it’s almost inhuman. Their bodies go rigid, senses razor-sharp, eyes locked on the tree line like they’ve just spotted a ghost. I’ve never seen them like this. Not even when I turned for the first time. Out from between the trees, a man steps forward. Black pants. Black button-down. Tall. Broad-shouldered. And eerily familiar. He looks like Eamon. Like someone shaved a decade off and twisted the warmth into steel. Eamon is already stepping in front of me, his hand subtly motioning me to stay back. Lenora shifts instantly to my side and grabs my hand. Her fingers tighten like a vice, and I know—without her saying a word—that this isn’t someone I want to mess with. "I greet the pack alpha," Eamon says, voice clipped and cold. The man grins, sharp and oily. "No need for such formalities between brothers now, is there?" He turns to Lenora and his eyes sweep over her like she’s a prize cow at an auction. Not lovingly. Not even paternally. Just a slow, calculating look that has my blood boiling before he opens his mouth. "Lenora, my dear. You look more and more like your mother every day." Lenora doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even blink. But she holds my hand tighter, shaking her head just enough for me to understand: Don’t do anything. Not yet. I take a step forward anyway. She pulls me back. Eamon’s jaw is grinding like gears. "What do you want, Alric?" he asks, the words nearly a growl. Alric. So this is the brother. Frederick’s father. The one I’ve heard muttered about, never directly named. The one whose shadow hangs over every political conversation like a vulture. Alric spreads his arms, mock-offended. "Can I not wish to see my family? My brother. My beloved niece?" No one answers him. The silence says more than words. He chuckles, and it scrapes across my nerves like broken glass. "Well," he says, turning slightly toward me, "I gave you all time. I was patient, even after hearing about our little guest’s... unique situation. But you know we can’t avoid custom forever." "He’s not ready," Lenora says quickly, her voice like a whipcrack. Alric tsks. "How sad. But custom is custom. You’ve had months, and hiding him forever won’t change what he is—or what he’s bound to do." His words hang heavy in the air. Eamon breathes slowly, like he’s biting back an explosion. "How long?" he finally asks. "Tonight," Alric replies with a smirk. "No more delays." "Understood," Eamon says after a moment. Alric smiles like he’s already won. "Good. Then if you’ll excuse me, I know you’ll want to prepare." He turns, just like that, and disappears back into the trees. The moment he’s out of earshot, Lenora explodes. "Fucking bastard!" she yells, kicking a boulder so hard it cracks. Eamon exhales, and it’s the kind of sigh that sounds like it’s been waiting to come out for weeks. His shoulders sag just a little more than usual. These days, he looks older by the hour. "What the hell just happened?" I ask. Lenora rounds on me, still fuming. "Every wolf that mates into a pack has to be introduced. It’s like... official acknowledgment. Normally there’s a ceremony, weeks of prep. Announcements. A proper lead-in." Her eyes flash. "He ambushed us. There’s no way to pull it off in a few hours. He wants you exposed, vulnerable. He wants to humiliate you. Us." I swallow hard. "And if I don’t go?" "Then he uses it to turn the pack against you," Eamon says grimly. "And possibly against me." Lenora bites the inside of her cheek. "It’s a test," she says. "A political play. He’s staking his claim—on tradition, on the pack, on control." I blink at her. "I still don’t understand." Eamon steps in, his voice heavy with something that feels older than time. "Since the earliest days of our kind, when a wolf mates into a pack, they do so with what they can offer. For female wolves, that’s often the ability to carry pups, nurture the bloodline, raise the future. For male wolves, it’s strength, protection, the hunt. Providing for the family." He pauses, leveling his gaze at me. "But you’re not just mating into a pack. You’re mating into the Alpha bloodline. The expectations aren’t just personal. They’re communal. What you bring must benefit the whole." A silence settles over the clearing. Heavy. Ancient. Cold. I swallow. "And if I can’t?" Eamon doesn’t look away. "Then you’re deemed unworthy." That word—unworthy—hits harder than it should. "What does that mean?" Lenora’s hand tightens around mine, but her voice is quieter now. "It means... you won’t be allowed into the pack. And since I’m your true mate..." she pauses, blinking fast, "I leave too. Banished. From everything I’ve ever known." The air leaves my lungs. She says it like it’s fact. Like she’s already made her peace with it. Like she would walk away from her home, her legacy, her family—without hesitation—just to stand beside me. "Wait," I say, the panic catching up to me. "They’d kick you out too? Because of me?" "That’s the law," Eamon says grimly. "It’s old. Most packs don’t enforce it anymore. But Alric isn’t most. And he’ll use every archaic rule he can if it means cornering us." Lenora is still staring at the ground. But her grip on my hand doesn’t waver. "I don’t want you to give up your life for me," I say hoarsely. This was never about me being ready. It was about forcing our hand. Throwing me in the deep end before I’d learned how to swim.