Fang of Silence

Pushing Too Hard

Kael did not draw the knife.

He stood there, fingers wrapped around the handle, and watched Theron's face. The fear was real. The hesitation was real. But so was the lie.

"I'll find the truth myself," Kael said. He released the knife and stepped back. "And when I do, if you're the one who sold me out, I'll come back."

Theron opened his mouth to speak. Kael was already gone.

The corridor was empty. Kael moved fast. His arm throbbed with every step. The bandages were red again. He ignored them.

He knew where to go.

Joric. The elder who approved the patrol schedule. The old wolf who sat on the council and stamped every order. If anyone knew who had access to the rotation, it was him.

Kael found Joric in his quarters. The old man was at his desk, reading by candlelight. He looked up when Kael entered. His eyes widened.

"Kael. You're awake. I heard—"

"The patrol schedule," Kael said. "Who else saw it before it was posted?"

Joric blinked. "I—you're bleeding. You should—"

"Answer the question."

The old man stood slowly. His hands were shaking. "The Alpha. Voss. Commander Hale. Theron. That's the standard distribution."

"Anyone else?"

"No. I—no."

"You wrote the approval. You stamped it."

"Yes. That's my duty."

Kael stepped closer. "Then you know who had access. You know who could have given that schedule to the wolves who ambushed me."

Joric's face went pale. "I didn't—I had no part in—"

"I'm not accusing you. I'm asking you to think."

The old man sat down heavily. His breath was coming faster. "I... I don't know. I don't know who could have..."

Kael leaned over the desk. His voice was low. "Think harder. Someone in this pack sold me out. Someone who knew my route. Someone who paid three wolves in silver."

Joric's eyes darted. His hands were trembling. "Silver? Silver bullets?"

"The casing was fresh. Human-made. From the Rusted Stag."

Joric's face went white. "The Stag... no one from the pack would... the rules..."

"Rules don't matter when the price is right."

Joric shook his head. His breath was ragged. "I can't... I don't know..."

Kael slammed his fist on the desk. The candle jumped. Joric flinched.

"You know something," Kael said. "Tell me."

"I—I heard things. Rumors. About the Consortium."

Kael froze. "What Consortium?"

"The Silver Consortium. Human hunters. They've been... they've been buying information. From packs. From wolves who—"

"Which wolves?"

Joric shook his head. "I don't know. I swear. I only heard whispers. The Alpha warned us not to talk about it. Said it was fear-mongering."

Kael leaned closer. "Who told you about it?"

Joric's eyes went wide. "I... I can't..."

"Tell me."

The old man's breath was coming in gasps. His hand clutched his chest. "I... the healer. Mira. She told me. She said... she said we have a traitor in the pack. Someone who... who's been selling secrets..."

Kael's blood went cold. Mira. The healer. The woman who had treated his wound.

"She told you this?"

"Months ago. She said... she said she had proof. But she wouldn't show me. She said it was too dangerous."

Kael grabbed Joric by the collar. "What proof?"

"I don't know! She wouldn't—she said—" Joric's eyes rolled back. His body went rigid.

Kael released him. Joric slumped forward. His face hit the desk. He did not move.

"No," Kael said. "No, wake up."

He grabbed the old man's shoulder. Joric was limp. His chest was still. His eyes were open and empty.

Kael stepped back. His hands were shaking. His arm was bleeding through the bandages.

He had pushed too hard. Joric's heart had given out.

First death. Permanent. Kael's fault.

He stood there in the candlelight, staring at the body. His mind raced. Mira. The healer. She had told Joric about the conspiracy. She had claimed to have proof.

But she had not gone to the Alpha. She had not shared the proof with anyone else. She had kept it secret.

Why?

Kael looked at Joric's body. The old man was dead. There was no bringing him back. No way to ask for more details.

But he had given Kael a name.

Mira Dane.

The woman who had treated his wound. The woman who had smiled at him in the infirmary. The woman who had said, "You'll need me before this is over."

She knew something. She had known for months.

And she had told no one.

Kael turned away from the body. He had to move fast. He had to find Mira. He had to get the truth out of her before anyone else died.

But first, he had to deal with the body. The council would want answers. The Alpha would want explanations.

Kael had killed an elder. Accidentally. But that didn't matter. The pack would see it as murder.

He was running out of time. The fever was returning. The silver was still in his blood. And now he had a corpse on his hands.

He looked at Joric one last time. The old wolf's mouth was slightly open. His eyes were glassy.

Kael reached down and closed them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Then he heard footsteps in the corridor. Voices. The guards were coming.

Kael looked around the room. No windows. One door.

He was trapped.

You just killed an elder. The guards are at the door. Do you run, or do you face the pack and try to explain?