Page 60 of Wolf's Vow

“Well…I don’t know about all that. But you’re being heavy-handed,” Mella said carefully. “There’s fear spreading through the pack. You can feel it.”

“Good,” I said as my wolf growled under my skin. “Fear is the first step to awareness.”

Corrin scowled. “Fear is not loyalty.”

“No,” I said. “But right now, loyalty’s being bought with abuse and threats. And if fear ofmekeeps one wolf from selling out another, I’ll take it until I can dig out the rot.”

Murrow folded his hands. “This isn’t Stonefang, Wolfe.”

“No, it’s not Stonefang; this shit wouldn’t be happening in Stonefang,” I said, stepping closer. “And it will not continue here. Like Stonefang, thisismy pack.”

His jaw tensed. The others didn’t speak. I let the silence stretch, then dropped the next blow.

“Solana told me everything, not because she saw me use my Will. Not because of the kindness I showed her. Not because of the fact that her abusive husband was under my beta’s boot. But because she saw what happens when someone who’s spent years being silent gets their voice back.”

Corrin frowned. “You can’t fix everything with force.”

“I don’t intend to,” I said. “But I will use it when I need to. And if that makes the rest of the pack uneasy, they can get over it or get out.”

Murrow’s eyes narrowed. “So we’re back to ruling through fear, then?”

“No,” I said. “We’re back to ruling like someone who gives a damn whether this pack makes it to next season in one piece.”

Mella shifted in her seat, eyes sharp. “And what about Rowen?”

I paused. “What about her?”

“She’s not here, and she does not wear your mark. You’re leading without your bonded mate at your side. It makes you look unstable.”

I stepped forward. Close enough that the air thickened. “You think Rowen not here makes meunfit?”

“I think you’re volatile.”

“Good,” I said, teeth flashing. “Because for the first time in years, this pack is waking the fuck up.”

No one spoke. I turned on my heel and walked out. Let them grumble. Let them scheme.

I wasn’t here to coddle tradition.

The druid was waiting when I got back to my office, hood drawn back, hands in their lap. Their robes dusted with pine needles and ash, like they’d come from the forest. “The crones are in the other room,” I snapped at them, striding across the floor. I stepped behind the desk and sat down heavily. “You heard,” I said.

“I did.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “They’re worried I’m too heavy-handed,” I said with a snort. “I told them what that family had been through, and they reprimandedmefor being heavy-handed.”

“They’re right,” they said calmly.

I watched them with a narrow glare. “You came in here just to agree with them?”

“No,” they answered simply. “I came to ask if you know why you’re doing it.”

“Why am I doing what? Protecting the Hollow?”

“Are you?” They sat back. “Or are you punishing it?”

I laughed. It sounded as bitter as I felt. “You think Iwantthis? You think I enjoy dragging traitors by their throats into the dirt?”

“I think you’re worried,” they said equally as sharply. “And when nervous men are handed power, they become one of two things—gods or monsters.”