"Then we study back," I reply. "No more hiding what we're facing. No more protecting through silence."
The quiet that follows isn’t obedience. It’s recalibration.
I can feel it in the bond—the shift from reflexive compliance to something more deliberate. Wolves adjusting not to new orders, but to being trusted with the reasons behind them.
It’s uncomfortable. Transparency always is.
I catch Ellie watching the pack, not with suspicion, but assessment. Like someone deciding whether a system is capableof change. The fact that she’s still here tells me what she’s decided so far.
“We don’t go back to how this was,” I say, not loudly, but clearly. “Not after today.”
No one argues. No one looks away.
The forest settles into an uneasy quiet, but I know the creature is still out there, adapting to our new approach just as we're adapting to its persistence.
"Status report,"I call out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Injuries first, then positions."
Rowan emerges from the eastern ridge, blood streaking his forearm. "Minor lacerations. Eastern perimeter held."
"Mara?"
"Clean. Western flank maintained formation." She steps into the clearing, no longer hiding her presence from Ellie's sight.
I turn to face the pack fully, letting them see the decision written across my face. "The aberrant is contained but not eliminated. This is our failure—a corrupted transformation that we failed to track properly."
Murmurs ripple through the group. Thomas shifts uncomfortably near the treeline.
"Alpha," he starts, "perhaps we should…"
"No." I cut him off cleanly, registering the look of shock on Ellie’s face as she learns in real time that Thomas is a part of the pack. "No more euphemisms. No more managing information. The threat has a name and a history, and everyone involved in stopping it gets to know both."
I help Ellie to her feet, checking her shoulder with quick, efficient touches. She winces but doesn't pull away.
"Bruised, not broken," she says, testing the range of motion. "The distraction worked exactly as planned."
"Because you mapped its territorial patterns correctly." I address the pack without dropping her gaze. "Ellie identified the behavioral triggers we missed. Her research gave us the advantage."
The silence stretches too long. Finally, Mara speaks.
"The journalist knows about pack structure now."
Oh good. Werewolves know how to be passive aggressive too. Sweet.
"The journalist has a name," Ellie says mildly, brushing dirt from her jacket. "And the journalist is standing right here."
I step closer to Ellie, not protectively but purposefully. "Ellie stays informed on all decisions moving forward. She's proven she can handle the information responsibly."
"That's not protocol," Thomas protests.
"Protocol failed." I let the words settle. "We've been reactive for decades, managing crises instead of preventing them. That changes now."
Rowan crosses his arms, studying me with the careful attention of a beta testing boundaries. "And if the council objects?"
"Then they can object in the open, where their concerns can be addressed directly." I turn back to Ellie. "What's your assessment of the containment?"
She pulls out her notebook, pages already marked with observations. "It's injured but not incapacitated. The territorial drive is stronger than self-preservation, which means it'll return to this location within forty-eight hours."
"Agreed. Rowan, establish visible patrols on eight-hour rotations. Mara, coordinate with the emergency services—no more mysterious animal attacks on the reports."