23. Nicolai

Chapter 23

Nicolai

-Titanium–Sia (David Guetta mix)-

The air hangs heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth as I trudge through the forest, each step a reminder of the weight of what Grace has done. Shafts of sunlight pierce through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. But there’s no beauty in this scene, only the aftermath of a violence I can scarcely comprehend.

I dare not look back at the trail of destruction left in Grace’s wake. The crunch of leaves beneath my boots echoes in the eerie silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant caw of a crow. The forest, once a sanctuary, now bears the scars of a battle that never should have been fought.

The air tastes metallic, tinged with the acrid tang of fear and adrenaline. My pulse quickens with every passing moment, a constant reminder of the danger that lurks just beneath the surface. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a primal instinct warning me of the danger that surrounds us.

As we work tirelessly to erase any trace of Grace’s rampage, the forest seems to hold its breath, as if waiting for the next inevitable eruption of violence. The tension is palpable, thickening the air with a suffocating pressure that threatens to crush us all.

And yet, amidst the chaos and destruction, there is one undeniable truth that hangs over us like a shroud. Grace’s power, her primal essence, looms over us all. It fills the very air we breathe, a potent reminder of the untamed beast that lies within her. She teeters on the edge of oblivion, her very existence a precarious balance between control and chaos.

But for now, we press on, determined to conceal the horrors of what has transpired. The forest may bear the scars of Grace’s fury, but we will not let her face the consequences of her actions alone. As long as her beast roams free, we are all in danger. And so, we will do whatever it takes to protect her, even if it means hiding the truth from her and from ourselves.

As I stand among my pack, the air crackles with tension, thick with the scent of uncertainty. Grace’s presence looms over us like a shadow, her inner turmoil palpable, a tempest brewing beneath her skin. I feel the heat emanating from her, a fierce blaze fueled by the primal instincts of her wolf, simmering just beneath the surface.

I glance around at my companions, their expressions mirroring my apprehension. Ethan, Griffin, and Conrad stand at my side, stalwart guardians in the face of the unknown. The weight of responsibility hangs heavy in the air, pressing down on us all.

The flickering light of the fire casts dancing shadows across the room, casting an eerie glow on the faces of the healers and elders gathered with us. Their presence is a testament to the gravity of the situation, their wisdom and experience a beacon of hope in the darkness.

“I have never called a council meeting,” I begin, my voice steady despite the turmoil churning within me. “But with all things considered, I felt it’s needed.” My words hang in the air, heavy with significance, as I search the eyes of those assembled before me.

“What do you mean?” Ethan’s rage is barely contained.

“Can’t you smell the fire from our mate? The smell of fire, of burning woods. A wolf of ember, a phoenix given paws and fur.” I search the faces of everyone gathered.

Ethan’s eyes flair and then Griffin nods slowly as he looks between Ethan and me. “It almost makes sense.” Griffin says as he looks down at the tabletop to who knows what.

Conrad’s voice breaks the tense silence, his gaze fixed on his brother. “What do you mean?”

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of my words as I speak. “Grace was as good as dead. Probably a heartbeat or two away from oblivion.” My voice trembles with regret. “You created her, Ethan, when your rage was at its peak. But so was your love for her.”

A heavy sigh escapes me as I shake my head, unable to meet their eyes. Instead, I fixate on the ground beneath my feet. Its earthy scent mingles with the tang of dried leaves, grounding me momentarily.

An elder steps forward, his presence commanding attention. His eyes, weathered with wisdom, bore into each of us. “Ember wolves are put down the minute they reach for the power they can wield,” he states firmly, his words echoing in the stillness. His hands disappear into the folds of his robes, a gesture of solemnity.

“No one will touch my mate,” I growl, my voice a low rumble that seems to echo off the ancient trees surrounding us. I fix my gaze on the elders, my eyes narrowing into slits of molten determination.

“You know ember wolves cannot contain the power they have,” the elder counters, his words heavy with the weight of experience. His eyes bore into mine, daring me to challenge his authority.

I feel the memories stir within me, memories of a time when I was just a child, when the world was engulfed in the flames of the blood wars. I remember the chaos, the destruction wrought by the Ember wolf’s uncontrollable power.

I was only four when the wars subsided, but the images are etched into my mind like scars. I remember the desperate struggle, the valiant effort of five alphas to bring down the Ember wolf. Three of them fell, their lives snuffed out by the fiery rage of the beast. It was only through the final, decisive act of beheading that the Ember wolf was finally silenced.

“If my mate is an Ember wolf, we will teach her to contain it,” I snarl, my words laced with defiance. I hold the elder’s gaze, unwavering. My senses sharpen, honing in on the rapid thud of his pulse, a primal rhythm that stirs the predator within me.

“She has four alphas to help contain the power,” I declare, my voice tinged with a dangerous edge. Beneath the surface, my wolf prowls, a primal force fueled by the instinct to protect what is ours. The mere thought of someone daring to come for my mate ignites a feral fury within me, a blaze that threatens to consume everything in its path.

“That may make the difference,” he says, his voice carrying a subtle edge of defiance. He raises his chin, the gesture almost a challenge, inviting confrontation.

“But if it doesn’t?” His head tilts slightly, his gaze sweeping over us as if expecting an answer, as if we would offer to sacrifice our own kin. The weight of his stare lingers, demanding a response.

“You know her death is directly linked to ours.” Griffin’s fist slams down on the table with a sharp thud, the force reverberating through the room. His words are punctuated by the sound, each syllable heavy with urgency. “Are you willing to set the valley into chaos, killing the four of us?” A low snarl escapes from between his lips as he leans closer, his body tense with restrained aggression. A more primal aspect of Griffin emerges, a raw intensity that I’ve never witnessed before, sending a shiver down my spine.

The elders back away, their murmurs barely audible as they huddle together, forming a tight circle. I stand tall, my gaze fixed on their every move, every subtle gesture. A shiver runs down my spine as I realize the weight of their discussions. We understand, slowly but surely, that trust in most of the elders is a delicate thread, easily frayed.

Their intentions become apparent as they discuss controlling the destinies of the alpha generations, dictating whom we should bond with, whom we should breed. I feel a surge of defiance rise within me. They had already chosen a mate for me, a predetermined path I was meant to follow until Grace came into my life.

Grace, with her wild spirit and untamed heart, she’s my unexpected salvation, a deviation from their carefully orchestrated plans. “If she is an ember wolf, we will bind her power to preserve your lives.” The elder, I believe his name is Donnelly, says. The threat hangs heavy in the air, suffocating, a reminder of the power they wield over our lives.

“Have you ever bound an ember wolf successfully?” Ethan’s voice slices through the tension like a blade, and I swear he grows taller before my eyes. His presence fills the room, his muscles coiled like springs, radiating barely contained rage. In his eyes, a fire burns with an intensity that threatens to consume everything in its path as he fixes his gaze on the elders. It’s as if he would tear the world asunder to safeguard Grace, and I know without a doubt that I would stand by his side every step of the way.

As the elders exchange glances, a ripple of unease shivers through the air. My stomach churns with a prescient dread, anticipating their response before they even utter a word. “Contain, no. Kill... Barely,” they finally admit, their voices weighted with solemnity, echoing in the tense silence that envelops us.

I sense the simmering anger emanating from Ethan and Griffin, like waves of heat rolling off their bodies. Before I can even react, Griffin’s fury erupts into action. I feel the tension in the air as he swiftly lifts the elder off his feet, his grip tightening around the man’s throat.

The raw power in Griffin’s stance sends a shiver down my spine. I can almost feel the elder’s panic as he struggles against Griffin’s iron hold. Each strained breath echoes in the charged atmosphere around us.

His eyes, blazing with fury, fixate on those still standing at the table, his gaze piercing through their defenses. With each word that drips from his lips, the air crackles with the electric tension of his resolve. “Any movement against our mate is a move against us,” he declares, his voice resonating like thunder in the chamber. As Griffin’s words cut through the tension, I glance at Ethan, and there’s a silent exchange between us. In that moment, an unspoken understanding passes between us. We both know what needs to be done to protect Grace and our children.

Griffin’s muscles tense as he hurls the elder across the room, the force of the throw reverberating through the air. The sound of impact echoes sharply against the walls, a cacophony of defiance. As he stands there, a towering figure of raw power, a primal roar escapes his lips, vibrating with intensity.

A sick, twisted grin stretches across his lips, contorted almost to the point of savagery. It’s a visage that speaks of dominance, of a predator fully aware of his strength. “Grace will summon the full might of the packs to destroy what may rise against her pups,” he growls, the words carrying the weight of a primal promise. “Never corner a she-wolf with babies. You will not win.”

His voice, once smooth and resonant, now carries a chilling edge, like the icy grip of impending doom. With each syllable, it’s as if the very air grows colder, a palpable sense of finality settling over the room. And in his eyes, once filled with warmth and kindness, there’s now only the cold, unyielding stare of a predator unleashed.

In that moment, any semblance of restraint or civility evaporates, consumed by the blazing inferno of his protectiveness. Whatever remnants of his lawful good nature had lingered within him are incinerated, reduced to ashes by the searing heat of his fury.

As I utter the words, “This conversation is over,” the weight of finality hangs heavy in the air. I watch the elders disperse from my pack, their expressions a mix of resignation and concern. With a subtle gesture, I beckon my bond brothers to follow, and we stride purposefully across the yard towards Conrad’s waiting car.

The cool night air brushes against my skin, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and damp earth. Each step reverberates through the ground, a steady rhythm echoing the determination coursing through my veins. Shadows dance around us, cast by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees, adding an eerie ambiance to our departure.

Conrad’s car sits patiently, a metallic sentinel amidst the darkness. As he slips behind the wheel, the faint creak of leather accompanies his movements. The interior is suffused with the familiar scent of his cologne, mingling with the musky aroma of wolf and forest.

“Do you think they will move against Grace?” Conrad’s voice breaks through the silence, pulling me from my thoughts.

I turn to meet his gaze, the amber glow of his eyes reflecting the intensity of our shared purpose. “They will try to and fail,” I respond, my voice a low growl tinged with resolve. The mere thought of anyone daring to harm Grace ignites a primal fury within me.

“She will destroy all of them, and I’m going to help her,” I declare, the words carrying the weight of a promise as I envision the unstoppable force we will become.

“You won’t be alone in that. I will destroy anyone or anything that even glances in Grace’s direction wrong,” Ethan declares, his voice low and fierce, sending a shiver down my spine. His words are like a promise etched in steel, and his grin, though charming, carries a dangerous edge that sets my nerves on edge.

I glance over at Griffin, seated beside me in the back of the car, his expression serious, his eyes focused on some distant point as if calculating every move. His demeanor is like that of a strategist, carefully planning each step in a high-stakes game.

Nodding in agreement, I feel a sense of urgency settling in my chest. Ambrose awaits us at the house. With every passing mile, the world outside the car window blurs into insignificance, my attention drawn inward to the pressing task ahead. As Griffin speaks of pooling our resources and preparing for what lies ahead, I can’t help but feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on me. Our mate’s safety is paramount, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure it.

Conrad’s silence envelops the car, a tangible weight settling between us. It catches my attention, tugging at the edges of my awareness like a whisper in a crowded room. I tilt my head, instinctively seeking the source of the disturbance, my gaze drawn to him.

“Something on your mind?” The words slip out, a gentle inquiry tinged with concern. My hand moves of its own accord, reaching forward to rest lightly on his shoulder, seeking connection, offering support.

Conrad’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, the leather creaking in protest beneath his grip. His knuckles whiten, the tendons in his arms standing out like taut cables. The tension radiates from him, palpable in the air, a silent declaration of his inner turmoil.

“Something isn’t sitting right with me,” he murmurs, his voice strained, as if each word is a struggle to articulate. His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, casting a shadow over the otherwise mundane landscape rushing past us. “I feel like something is being hidden.”

Pulling my hand back, I feel the cool metal of my phone against my palm as I lean against the seat. With each tap of my fingers on the screen, I sense the urgency pulsating through me, a silent plea for help to my most loyal Betas. They become my eyes and ears, venturing into the shadows to uncover secrets hidden by the elders of our pack.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” I murmur, the words heavy with suspicion and frustration. “They’ve survived three alphas’ rules for a reason.”

The car falls into a heavy silence, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the engine as we traverse the familiar path back to the pack house nestled within Murphy land. My mind swirls with a maelstrom of thoughts, each one a jagged shard of uncertainty. There are too many variables, too many unknowns, and not enough solid solutions. It feels as though I’m treading on thin ice, navigating a minefield without a map, each step fraught with the risk of detonation.