Chapter 13

None of them spoke on the walk back. Anything said too quickly would be a lie, and none of them were ready for one.

The trees thinned, the dirt hardened under their boots, and the night noises slowly returned. The forest no longer pressed against Daniel’s senses; it gave him space. That quiet frightened him more than any open hostility.

Eva walked on his left, Angelina on his right. Close enough for him to hear their heartbeats, but he refused to focus on them. He was terrified of what he might notice.

“You didn’t lose control,” Angelina said, breaking the silence. “That matters.”

Daniel kept his eyes on the ground. “I almost did.”

“But you didn’t. You stopped yourself.”

Eva’s pace slowed. “Because he saw us. Because we were there.”

Daniel glanced at her. She kept her eyes fixed on the distant lights of Granland.

“If we hadn’t been there,” Eva said, her voice flat, “I don’t know if you would have stopped.”

It hit harder than an accusation. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that he wasn't just a threat held together by guilt and proximity. But the silver-haired Fey’s voice echoed in his head: You will survive him. She will not.

“I don’t want to be something you have to manage,” Daniel said softly. “It’s just another reason for me to leave.”

Angelina scoffed. “Too late. You’ve been something we have to manage for a while now.”

Eva stopped dead in her tracks. Angelina pulled up beside her, her jaw set.

Eva turned to face Daniel. Her eyes weren't filled with fear—they were heavy with grief, like she was already mourning something she hadn't lost yet.

“You didn’t tell us how bad it was,” she said, blinking back tears. “Why?”

“I didn’t know,” Daniel said.

“That’s not true,” she whispered. “You knew something was wrong. You just hoped it wouldn’t matter.”

He didn't answer. She was right.

The packhouse stood at the edge of the territory, its stone walls pale under the low moon. Shadows moved along the high parapets. The wolves were awake and watching. News traveled fast in Granland, especially when fear carried the scent.

“You’re much more different.,” Angelina muttered as they approached the gate. “Your presence. It’s pressing.”

“I feel it too,” Daniel said.

Every step pulled at something inside him. It wasn't hunger; it was weight. The subtle pull of authority. If he shouted, people would obey. If he snapped, blood would spill. That authority terrified him far more than his hunger ever had.

Rowan stood waiting in the main yard, arms crossed over his chest. Several Betas flanked him, their postures rigid, measuring Daniel as he crossed the threshold.

“You crossed into Fey territory,” Rowan said without greeting them.

“They pulled us in,” Eva snapped.

Rowan’s eyes shifted to her, then back to Daniel. “Fey don't pull what isn't already leaning.”

“They were bending the land,” Daniel said smoothly, refusing the bait. “We weren’t leaning..”

“Fair.” Rowan grunted. “That’s part of their way.”

“They showed us possibilities,” Angelina said.

The air in the yard shifted. The surrounding wolves leaned in slightly.

“Did they?” Rowan asked. “And you believed them?”

“They didn't say it was set in stone,” Eva said before Daniel could speak.

“They never do, Eva,” Rowan said, his gaze sharpening. “That’s how they trap you.” He turned fully toward Daniel, his posture shifting into something harder, more deliberate. “Your aura changed out there. It’s changing now.”

“It isn't stabilizing,” Daniel admitted.

“No,” Rowan agreed. “It’s getting deeper.”

A low murmur passed through the watching pack. Rowan raised a single hand, cutting it off instantly.

“You stood down out there,” Rowan said. “That counts for something. But restraint doesn't make you safe.”

“I’m not trying to be safe,” Daniel said evenly. “I’m trying to be reined.”

Rowan stared at him. “You can't ask a pack to control you, Daniel.”

“I’m not asking,” Daniel said. “I’m offering.”

The silence in the yard went absolute.

Eva turned to him sharply. “Daniel, no—”

“Listen,” he said quietly, cutting her off before she could spin out. He looked back at Rowan. “The Fey are right about one thing. I’m a variable people are going to try to use. If I pretend I’m just a guest, people get hurt. If I run, the same thing happens.”

Angelina crossed her arms. “So what are you proposing?”

“I stay,” Daniel said. “Not as a guest. Not as your weapon.”

Rowan’s mouth twitched. “Those are the only two choices a pack gives a vampire.”

“Then make a third,” Daniel said. “A constant.”

Rowan went still.

“A pressure point,” Daniel continued. “A line on your map. I won't take your orders, and I won't enforce your pack laws. But if something threatens this border that you can't handle without starting a war—”

“You call him,” Angelina finished quietly.

Eva’s face paled. “No. Daniel, that’s exactly what the Fey want. They want you positioned as a weapon waiting to go off.”

“And if I don't go off?” Daniel asked her softly.

Eva opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“Then he changes the rules,” Rowan said. The Alpha stepped closer, his voice dropping so only the three of them could hear. “They’re already terrified of you, Daniel. The only question left is whether that fear stays wild or gets boundaries.”

Boundaries. Daniel let the word settle in his mind.

“I won't kill to make your life easier,” Daniel said, eyeing the Alpha.

“Agreed,” Rowan said.

“I won't hunt based on rumors.”

“Fair.”

“And if you ever try to use me to settle internal pack business again—” Daniel glanced briefly toward the corner of the yard where Alistair had bled out “—I leave. Permanently.”

Rowan held his gaze for three long seconds, then extended a hand. “Deal.”

Eva stared at their joined hands. “You’re negotiating with him like he isn't—”

“Like he isn't dangerous?” Rowan cut in calmly. “He is. So is every wolf  standing in this yard.”

Daniel pulled his hand back. The deal was struck, and the wolves around them felt the shift. It wasn't trust—it was placement.

Late into the night, after the yard had cleared, Daniel stood on the outer stone wall overlooking the valley. The distant lights of the human city blinked through the trees—normal lives moving in ignorance of the dark. He envied them.

Eva stepped up to the wall beside him, leaning her elbows against the cold stone.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she murmured, looking straight out into the dark. “About not knowing if you’d stop.”

“I know,” Daniel said.

“It scares me.”

“It should.”

She turned her head to look at him. “But you still stopped.”

Daniel met her eyes. “Because if I didn't, there wouldn't be anything left of me to save.”

Eva reached out, her fingers brushing against his leather sleeve. She didn't grab him, and she didn't pull away. She just left her hand there.

Far beyond the wall, deep in the dark where the forest met the road, the Fey’s truths kept moving—quiet, steady, and impossible to pull back.

And miles away, in a room built of shadow and bone, Dranum listened to the reports. He didn't laugh. He just smiled, settling back into the dark to watch his piece take its place on the board.