The stronghold had returned to its usual rhythm. The fires were extinguished, the bodies dealt with, and the soldiers, though bruised and battered, had settled back into their routines. Victory had been secured.
But despite the return to normalcy, a tension still clung to the air. It wasn't the aftermath of war that caused it.
It was him.
Caidren could feel it.
The way the soldiers watched him more carefully. The way whispers followed him through the halls. The way Dain's words still lingered in his mind, no matter how many times he tried to dismiss them.
He had done what was necessary.
Rescuing Elias had been a calculated decision, nothing more. Losing him—losing anyone—would have reflected weakness on the stronghold. It had been about order. Discipline. Nothing else.
Yet, no one seemed to believe that.
Not the soldiers.
Not Dain.
And worst of all—
Not himself.
The Burden of Command
Caidren sat at the head of the war table, his generals gathered before him. Maps were spread across the rough wood, detailing the damage, the remaining supplies, the potential threats still lurking beyond their borders.
They should have been discussing strategy. Planning their next move.
Instead, the conversation had strayed.
"The men are still speaking of it," one of the generals muttered. "Your… priorities during the attack."
Caidren's gaze snapped to him. "Is there a problem?"
Silence.
No one was foolish enough to answer.
But the hesitation was enough.
He knew what they were thinking.
That the Alpha had done something uncharacteristic. That instead of leading the charge, instead of focusing solely on the battlefield, he had diverted his attention to one person.
An omega.
A boy who should have been insignificant.
Caidren exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping against the table. "I did what was necessary."
A pause.
Then—
"Did you?"
Dain.
Of course.
Caidren's patience thinned. "If you have something to say, say it."
Dain leaned forward, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You've always been ruthless, my lord. Efficient. You command with precision." His lips curved. "Yet you risked everything—for him."
The air in the room grew heavier.
Caidren held Dain's gaze, cold and unwavering. "I would have done the same for any of my people."
Dain chuckled, shaking his head. "No, you wouldn't."
A dangerous silence settled between them.
Dain smirked. "If he truly means nothing, prove it."
Caidren's fingers twitched against the wood.
"Cast him out," Dain continued, his voice light, but his words like a blade. "Send him away. Let him fend for himself. If you hesitate, even for a moment, we'll all know why."
The challenge hung in the air.
A test.
A trap.
Caidren could feel the eyes of the room on him, waiting.
He should have answered immediately. Should have said yes without hesitation.
And yet—
The words refused to come.
The silence stretched too long.
Dain smiled.
And Caidren hated it.
He forced himself to his feet, his chair scraping against the stone floor. "We're done here."
He turned and left without another word.
Because for the first time in his life—
He had nothing to say.