LIAM
8 days ago
I was at the north border of the pack territory. The scent was faint, a lingering trace of Isabelle mixed with the earthy damp of the forest floor, the decaying leaves and wet bark. It was getting colder, and her smell had all but disappeared, sinking into the rot and moss.
I circled the trail one last time, inhaling, but there was nothing left — just damp earth and the stale musk of forest creatures. It was like she'd vanished into thin air.
The forest closed in around me, thick and silent, every small noise amplified in the quiet. A rustle here, a snap there, the scents of small animals nearby, their faint heartbeats just beyond reach. My ears flicked at the sound of a branch breaking underfoot, sharp and deliberate. It wasn't a raccoon or a rabbit—too heavy. No, this was someone, someone moving through the underbrush like they knew exactly where they were going.
I stilled, my paws sinking into the wet leaves, and let the world narrow to that sound. I drew in another breath, and there it was — a scent I didn't recognize, laced with something wild and metallic.
Old blood, worn leather, something dark and sharp. This wasn't a scent I'd ever smelled in the pack lands, and it made the fur along my spine bristle.
The rustling grew closer, steady, unhurried. Whoever it was didn't seem worried about hiding. I angled my head, sniffing again, letting the smells come together, and then it hit me — a faint, distant memory, something from when I was just a kid, before Declan had vanished from the pack. His scent was older now, laced with bitterness and smoke, but it was him. I crouched lower, keeping silent, tracking the rhythm of his footsteps as he approached.
Then he stopped. His presence filled the air, the quiet around him somehow more threatening than if he'd made any noise at all.
He stood there, just out of sight, the smell of cold iron and dry earth radiating from him. A soft exhale from his direction, barely audible.
"Shift," he said, his voice slicing through the air like a blade, calm and commanding.
I hesitated, the primal part of me recoiling, instincts flaring up. But then he stepped into view, close enough that I could see a curve of his mouth, twisted in something that was almost a smile but didn't reach his eyes.
He tossed a bundle at my feet — clothes, smelling faintly of leather and fire. No point in pretending I wasn't cornered. I took a breath, letting the wolf recede, and felt the shift take over as bones cracked and muscles reformed, leaving me human again.
"So they've got you playing the loyal son," he said, his mouth tugging into a smirk. Something in his tone made my skin prickle.
"Better than being exiled," I shot back. But my confidence wavered, and Declan's face darkened. I'd hit a nerve.
"You don't even know, do you?" His gaze bore into me. "Why they sent me away? Why Ronan would rather gut his own pack than let me back in?"
I swallowed, keeping my stance steady, though every instinct screamed to run. "It was a punishment for your crimes. Other than that I only assumed, it's not like you are the main topic at the compound."
He chuckled, low and bitter. "Of course that is what they told you. They'd rather keep you clueless. Especially your mother."
The way he said it made my stomach twist. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he was just bitter. But I couldn't shake the feeling in his eyes, like he was looking right through every doubt I'd ever had.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice low.
"You think your father died a hero?" His words hit like a slap. "You think Jean's some grieving widow, keeping it all together for her sons? Holding everything together for the good of the pack?"
"She is," I said, though the words felt hollow. Mum was… well, mum was mum. Always holding everything down, making us believe it was for our own good. But what if…?
Declan scoffed. "That's what she told you? That Gideon was just another casualty of the job? Victim of a rogue attack?"
He watched me, waiting for a reaction, but I couldn't move, his words settling in like stones.
"Yhen what really happened?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, and I hated how my voice cracked.
"Let's just say Jean keeps everyone exactly where she wants them. Including all of us, all of you." His gaze didn't soften. "And from where I'm standing, you're nothing more than her pawn."
So no real answer then…
I felt anger simmering, the instinct to defend her even if I didn't believe it. "And why should I believe you?," I muttered, but it sounded weak even to me.
"Deep down you know I'm telling the truth, even if you won't admit it." He folded his arms, giving me a hard look that seemed more pity than anything else. "If you're out here, sniffing around for Isabelle, it's because she wants you far away, out of the way, while she plays her games with Ronan and Maeve."
I shook my head, trying to clear the mix of anger and doubt he'd kicked up in me. "Why are you telling me this?"
He looked at me steadily. "Because you're the last person who might actually stand a chance against her." His voice was harsh but deadly serious. "Ronan's too soft, lets her rule from the shadows as if she's still his regent, like he is still sixteen. He thinks he needs her to keep the pack in line."
"He does what is best for the pack," I muttered, even though it sounded flimsy.
Declan's face hardened. "Jean's had him under her thumb since the day your father died. He's never led alone, doesn't know what it's like. And he's too wrapped up in her plans to see her for what she is."
Every word was slamming into me, twisting things I'd never dared to question. Mum was supposed to be the glue that held us all together, but the more Declan talked, the more it sounded like she'd been holding us back.
His gaze softened just a bit, but his tone stayed sharp. "Maeve will never be yours, Liam. Jean made sure of that. Maeve's bound to Ronan now, tied up in rituals and alliances so tightly that you've got no chance." His words were blunt, painful, and I flinched despite myself.
"I can't know that," I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady. Even though i wasnt sure of anything anymore.
But it confirmed my thoughts, my mother had ripped Maeve away before I'd even had a choice, gutted me.
Declan took a step back, watching me like he was sizing up a broken version of what I'd thought I was. "If you want to survive, if you want any chance of helping Maeve, of being anything other than Jean's pawn — then you need to break free. Do something she wouldn't expect."
The frustration was building inside me, a hot knot of anger and helplessness. My whole life, I'd wanted to be important to someone, have someone on my side - and that person was Maeve.. If Declan was telling the truth mum had twisted it all, keeping me right where she wanted.
Declan's voice softened slightly as he turned, fading back into the shadows. "If you keep waiting, Liam, you're going to lose everything you care about. So, think about what you're willing to risk. And if you don't make a move now, you're just another one of her pieces."
I didn't move, barely breathed, as his words faded into the night. And suddenly, I felt something inside me snap, something raw and sharp, pulling up every bit of rage, every bit of pride mum had crushed.
Declan was right — I'd been a fool, letting her control me, letting her keep Maeve out of reach.
Enough was enough.
The wind cut through the trees, brushing against my skin, stirring up everything Declan had said. I balled my fists, jaw tight. Mum wasn't holding the pack together for us. She was holding it for herself, and keeping us all tangled in her plans. She had somehow played my dad, kept Ronan under her thumb, and stolen Maeve.
Even if he wasn't telling the truth about everything he was right about one – I have to do something.
A reckless, desperate idea took shape in my mind. I didn't know how I'd pull it off, but for the first time, it felt like mine — like I had a choice.
Mum needed a reminder she couldn't control us all, couldn't keep us bound to her forever. And if Declan was right, maybe I'd be the one to break free.
I turned back, my mind racing with possibilities. None of them smart, all of them dangerous. But Maeve's face flickered in my mind, her eyes looking at me like I was worth believing in. And Ronan — trapped by my mother's rules, just like me.
No more.
Whatever it took, however far I'd have to go, this was the last time I'd play by her rules.