CHAPTER 440: JOURNEY

The fire in the council chamber crackled low, casting long, flickering shadows across the stone walls.

It was late, too late for a formal meeting, but Uther hadn’t summoned them for official business.

The three older guards who sat around the table had once served Xaden’s father. They were loyal to the pack, but loyalty could bend when fed enough fear, uncertainty, and ambition.

Uther poured himself a drink from the glass decanter and then gestured at the others. "Drink, brothers. The night is long and heavy."

One of the elders, Bryn, took a cautious sip. He was gray-bearded and slow-moving these days, but still sharp when it counted.

"You said this wasn’t official business, Uther. So, why the secrecy?"

Uther leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid. "Because these are uncertain times, old friend. Our Alpha is missing. His blood on the trail, no word for days. The people are beginning to ask questions."

The men shifted, uneasy.

Merek, the broad-shouldered warrior with a scar running down his cheek, frowned. "We don’t give up on our Alpha so quickly. Search parties are still out-"

"And yet they return empty handed," Uther interrupted smoothly. "And in the meantime, the pack grows restless.The Luna-to-be is isolated, frightened. A pregnant whore threatens to take her place. The inner circle is scattered. And the question no one wants to ask lingers in every shadow, what happens if Xaden does not return?"

A cold silence settled over the table.

The third elder, Callen, rubbed a hand over his mouth.

"He’s a strong wolf. He’s survived worse."

Uther nodded solemnly. "I pray that you’re right. But leadership demands we plan for every outcome. We cannot let this pack fall into chaos. The rivals circling our borders will smell weakness like blood."

Bryn narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting?"

Uther set his glass down with a gentle clink. "A temporary council. Only until Xaden returns, if he returns. The people need visible strength. We give them that. Reassurance. Order."

Merek’s jaw tightened. "And who would lead this council, Uther?"

He gave a modest shrug. "I would not presume. But I am of Alpha blood. I’ve led men. I’ve kept our borders intact while the young Alpha ran wild through forests."

Callen looked unconvinced. "The pack never questioned Xaden’s leadership. Until now."

"Not openly," Uther said quietly. "But don’t mistake silence for loyalty. People are scared. Especially now with Jasmine here, the rumors swirling... about accidents, curses, her blood line..."

His words trailed off like smoke, deliberately leaving space for suspicion to take root.

Merek slammed his palm on the table. "That girl carries the Alpha’s heir!"

"And what if the Alpha is dead?" Uther asked, almost gently. "What future does this pack have under a frightened, unshifted girl who doesn’t even know our laws? We are protectors of legacy. We are not led by sentiment."

Bryn stared at Uther for a long moment. "You’ve thought about this for a while." Uther didn’t deny it. "I’ve only thought about what’s best for the pack. Xaden is my blood, and I would die before I betrayed him. But if he’s truly gone, someone has to be ready to carry the weight."

Silence stretched thin again.

Callen finally spoke, voice low. "Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that."

Uther stood and adjusted his dark coat, the firelight catching in his eyes like twin embers. "Hope is a poor plan, Callen. But you’re right. Let’s hope."

He left them there, unsure, divided, but thinking.

That was enough.

Later that night, Uther walked slowly through the hallway of the Alpha’s pack, his boots echoing softly on the stone.

The torchlight made his profile appear carved from shadow and pride.

He passed the locked door of the council records and paused briefly, fingertips grazing the cold handle.

Soon, the doors would open for him without question.

He continued on, nodding at a young guard who snapped to attention.

The man was barely of age, eager-eyed and green with ambition.

Uther’s kind of recruit.

Easy to shape.

Back in his quarters, Uther poured himself another drink and sat at his writing desk. He scribbled a few notes onto parchment—names, positions, loyalties.

He circled one:Erik.

The warrior was a problem. Too close to Jasmine.

Too vocal. Too bold.

And lately, far too curious.

Uther leaned back and stared at the flickering flame of the candle.

If Jasmine started asking the right questions, and Erik started giving her the right answers, it could unravel everything before he was ready.

That couldn’t happen.

He would need to distract them both. Divide them, if possible.

And if Xaden returned... well, plans could change.

But if he didn’t...Uther took another sip, smiled to himself, and whispered, "Then the pack will have a new Alpha."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The packhouse had grown quieter in recent days, a hush of tension nesting in every corridor, every whispered conversation.

But that silence was shattered just past noon when the heavy wooden doors to the hall burst open.

One of the scouts stood there, panting and mud-streaked, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

"Alpha Erik," he gasped, bowing hastily. "We’ve found something."

Erik was already on his feet, his hand clenched around the back of his chair. Jasmine, seated across the table beside Nanny Nia, froze.

She caught the tremble in the scout’s voice, the wildness in his scent.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

The man stepped further in, producing a piece of torn cloth from his belt.

The once-black fabric was shredded and soaked in dried blood.

It clung to his fingers like something alive.

"We found this in the forest. About four miles north, past the ridge near the river bend," he said.

"It’s part of Alpha Xaden’s cloak."

Jasmine’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her stomach churned. The room spun. A ringing filled her ears like the world itself had cracked open.

The air around her seemed to collapse, every breath suddenly too thick to take in.

"There’s more," the scout continued grimly. "Three of the warriors who were with him... we found their bodies."

A sound escaped Jasmine—half gasp, half sob—and her hands instinctively went to her belly. Her breath hitched like it might never come again.

Nanny Nia reached for her, but Jasmine had already stood up, eyes glassy with panic and disbelief.

"No," she whispered. "No, he can’t be..."

"They were dead?" Erik asked, stepping forward, voice sharp with urgency.

The scout nodded grimly.

"Yes. Slaughtered. Their throats were torn out. No sign of Xaden himself."

Erik’s expression hardened like stone. "Gather your unit again. I want to see the site myself. We’ll leave within the hour."

Jasmine took a shaky breath, then said, "I’m coming with you."

Erik turned sharply. "No. Jasmine—"

"I said I’m coming," she snapped, though her voice wavered. "He’s the father of my child."

Her voice cracked at the last word, but her spine stayed straight. The room held its breath.

Erik looked to Nanny Nia for support. "She can’t, not in her condition. It’s dangerous."

But Nanny Nia hesitated, seeing the fire behind Jasmine’s eyes, the fierce, maternal fear that no reason could extinguish.

Still, she tried. "My sweet girl, listen to me... if something is out there capable of killing warriors, it could come for you next. You must think of the baby."

"I am thinking of the baby," Jasmine said, her voice trembling but strong. "That child will grow up knowing I didn’t stand by and do nothing while his father bled alone in the forest."

There was something in her voice—a breaking point. A vow carved out of desperation.

"Gods, Jasmine, this has nothing to do with mindset or what anyone says." Erik sounded more desperate than angry. His hand ran through his hair in frustration.

"I’ve made up my mind, Erik." Jasmine stated clearly, each word pronounced like steel striking flint.

The words left a heavy silence hanging in the room.

Nanny Nia stood then, slowly, watching Jasmine not as a child to protect but as a woman who had chosen her pain. Her purpose.

"You won’t listen," she murmured. "So I’ll say only this—don’t let your grief make you reckless."

Jasmine blinked back tears. "I’m not grieving. Not yet."

Erik let out a long, slow breath, then looked Jasmine over as if measuring how much of her fire he could contain.

"If you come, you stay close to me. One step out of line and I’m dragging you back myself."

"Do you understand? Do you agree that if you insist on coming with me, you have to stay by my word and do everything I ask you to?" Erik asked again, more urgently this time.

Jasmine nodded. "Yes. I promise."

He studied her face for a long moment, as if committing the resolve in her eyes to memory. Finally, he sighed.

"Then we leave first thing by dawn."

With that, he turned and headed out, the door shutting behind him like a verdict.

Jasmine didn’t move. The bloodstained cloth still lay on the table, heavy as death.

And all she could hear, over the pounding of her heart, was the forest calling her name.