Chapter 4: The Weight of the Shadows

POV: Osric

The morning sun cast long shadows over the Talon Pack compound, illuminating the familiar faces I had come to know over decades of service. But the light did little to ease the growing tension that clung to the pack like a storm waiting to break. Each wolf moved with purpose, heads bowed slightly, their eyes avoiding one another’s too often for comfort.

I stood near the edge of the training grounds, arms crossed, watching Elara. She was speaking to Lyle, the eager young wolf who had begun stepping up in patrols, and I couldn’t help but notice the strain in her posture. Her words were calm, steady, but her shoulders carried a tension she was trying desperately to hide. It was a burden all Alphas bore—this endless balancing act of strength and vulnerability. But Elara’s burden was different. Heavier.

She turned her gaze toward me briefly, catching my eye, and gave me a faint nod. I returned the gesture, though I couldn’t suppress the unease that had settled deep in my chest since the day Dante returned.

Dante.

The thought of his name alone sent a ripple of unease through me. I glanced toward the far end of the compound where he was sparring with a group of younger wolves. His movements were sharp, calculated. Despite the years of separation, he hadn’t lost his edge. The younger wolves hung on his every word, their admiration plain in the way they followed his instructions with rapt attention. Too much attention.

The way they watched him reminded me of a different time—a time when Dante was at the heart of the pack, trusted by many, and regarded as a natural leader. He had a charisma that couldn’t be taught, a force of personality that drew others to him even when it sowed seeds of doubt among the elders. I remembered watching him in those days, seeing how easily he commanded respect from the younger wolves while testing the patience of the council.

There had been a moment, years ago, when Dante’s vision for the pack clashed openly with Marcus’s. It was during a debate over a territorial dispute with a neighboring pack. Dante had argued for expanding our borders, advocating strength and boldness, while Marcus favored negotiation and restraint.

“We have the power to take what’s ours,” Dante had said, his voice ringing through the council chambers. “Hesitation only makes us look weak.”

His words had lit a fire in the younger wolves, but I could see the worry in Marcus’s eyes. That worry had simmered for weeks until the confrontation that led to Dante’s exile. Now, seeing Dante back among us, I felt a pang of that same unease—his presence was a catalyst, and I wasn’t sure whether it would strengthen us or tear us apart.

“You’re staring.”

Celia’s voice broke me from my thoughts. She approached quietly, her hands clasped behind her back, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp. As one of the more level-headed members of the council, she often played the role of mediator when things grew tense. Today, though, I wasn’t sure even she could smooth the waters.

“Can’t help it,” I muttered, nodding toward Dante. “You see how they look at him? Like he’s already taken over.”

She followed my gaze, her lips tightening. “They’re drawn to him because he’s new, Osric. Wolves gravitate toward confidence, especially when things feel uncertain.”

I shook my head, a low growl rumbling in my throat. “It’s not just that. He’s got history here. He left, but he’s still remembered as one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever had. Some of them wonder why he isn’t Alpha now.”

“And do you?” she asked, her voice calm but probing.

I turned to her, my jaw tightening. “No. Elara’s earned this, Celia. She may be young, but she’s steady, reliable. She listens, even when she doesn’t agree. That’s what makes a good Alpha.”

“And yet,” Celia said softly, “you worry.”

I let out a slow breath, my gaze returning to Elara. “Because I’ve seen this before. Divided loyalties tear packs apart. And it’s not just the young ones looking to Dante. Some of the older wolves—they remember him as the Alpha we could’ve had. They don’t see him as a threat yet, but give it time.”

Celia was quiet for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Do you think he’s here for her?”

The question struck a chord, one I wasn’t sure how to answer. Elara and Dante had a connection, one that had been clear even before his banishment. They understood each other in ways I could never quite grasp, and I knew that bond hadn’t disappeared with time. But whether he was here for Elara or for the pack—or for himself—I couldn’t say.

“I don’t know,” I admitted finally. “But it doesn’t matter. He’s a disruption, intentional or not. Elara’s trying to hold this pack together, and his presence makes that harder.”

Celia frowned, her gaze softening as it drifted toward Elara. “She’s stronger than you give her credit for, Osric. The others will see it in time.”

“Maybe,” I muttered. “But we don’t have time. Silas is watching, waiting. If he sees us divided, he’ll strike.”

The silence between us grew heavy, the weight of our shared worries pressing down like a lead blanket. Finally, Celia spoke again, her tone firmer this time. “Then we help her. Quietly. Dante’s return might stir things up, but it’s Elara who leads this pack. If anyone questions that, we remind them why.”

I nodded, grateful for her steady presence even as doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve. “You’re right. For now, we watch. And if Dante steps out of line—”

“—we deal with it,” Celia finished, her voice hard. “For the good of the pack.”

Her words settled something within me, a reminder of where my loyalty truly lay. Elara was Alpha, whether the others believed it or not. And as much as I respected Dante’s strength, I wouldn’t let his return threaten the fragile unity we’d fought to build.

________________________________________

Later, as Elara passed me near the council chambers, I called out to her. She stopped, tilting her head slightly as she regarded me with a calm that belied the strain I knew she felt.

“Osric,” she said, her voice steady. “Something on your mind?”

I hesitated for a moment, then spoke carefully. “Dante’s presence—it’s stirring things up.”

Her gaze sharpened, though her tone remained neutral. “I’m aware. Do you think he’s a threat?”

“Not intentionally,” I said slowly. “But he’s... polarizing. The younger wolves look at him like a hero, and the older ones remember the tension he caused before.”

Elara’s shoulders squared, her expression firm. “I won’t let him divide us, Osric. I’ll handle it.”

I nodded, though the doubt lingered. “If you need support, you have it. Always.”

Her faint smile was both reassuring and bittersweet. “I know. Thank you.”

As she walked away, her stride purposeful, I couldn’t help but think of Marcus. He had ruled with an iron fist, demanding loyalty without question. Elara’s approach was softer, steadier, but the road ahead of her was treacherous. I only hoped her strength would hold.