Chapter 67: The Truth, Fully
My chest’s tight with affection. These men notice everything about me, adjust themselves constantly to meet needs I haven’t even articulated, and somehow make it look effortless.
Ezra’s fingers press a little harder against my scalp, and I tilt my head back to look at him. His dark eyes are already on me, watching with that intense focus that makes me feel like I’m the only thing in the world that matters, and he gives me the smallest smile. It transforms his usually severe face into something softer, something that makes my heart kick hard against my ribs.
Corrian returns a few minutes later, and the energy in the room reacts to him.
He’s not broadcasting distress or anger or anything obvious, but we feel it anyway.
There’s been a change, and it’s significant.
I start to sit up, my body responding to the tension, but Ezra’s hand on my shoulder gently pulls me back down. His fingers resume their massage as he tries to keep me calm. Here in this moment of peace for as long as possible before whatever Corrian has to say shatters it.
I’m waiting for the irritation. I’m not a child who needs to be protected from difficult information, but instead I’m just grateful. A few more minutes of warmth and simple domestic happiness before reality intrudes. I can accept that gift.
Corrian settles back onto the sofa, but he doesn’t relax the way he was before. His posture is controlled, and when his eyes meet mine I see apology there. Guilt. Whatever he’s about to tell me, he wishes he didn’t have to.
The movie continues playing, but nobody’s watching any more. Even Jax and River have gone quiet, their argument abandoned. All five of them are waiting. The silence stretches long enough that I consider just demanding answers immediately, but a little voice stops me. Some instinct that says once Corrian speaks, once he tells me whatever that phone call was about, everything’s going to change.
So I give myself this moment. This bubble of safety that I’m about to have to step outside of.
Finally, Corrian clears his throat. The sound is quiet but it cuts through the room, every muscle in my body tense in response. Ezra’s fingers still against my scalp, and even that small loss of movement is significant. Here it comes. Whatever it is. Whatever’s about to make that expression appear on Corrian’s face.
"That was Vaela," he says, and his voice is carefully neutral. Carefully neutral means bad news delivered gently. Means something he thinks might hurt me or scare me or fundamentally alter my understanding of my situation. "She wanted to give us a heads up about something before it becomes official."
I wait, but he doesn’t continue straight away.
Instead he looks at each of the other alphas in turn, some silent communication passing between them that I’m not privy to, and there’s the irritation. I’m so tired of being on the outside of important conversations about my own life. So tired of people deciding what I can and can’t handle, what I should and shouldn’t know. My wolf stirs restlessly, feeding off my frustration, and I feel Ezra’s hand tighten slightly on my shoulder.
He can sense my mood shifting, can probably feel the tension building in my body, and he’s trying to ground me before I spiral. It helps, but only marginally.
"The Council’s patience has run dry," Corrian continues, and now his eyes are fixed on me. "They’re demanding an audience. All six of us, together, within the next two weeks. If we don’t comply willingly, they’ll force the matter."
The words land like stones in still water, sending ripples of implication spreading outward.
The Council. I’ve learned about them during my time with Vaela, the governing body of all wolf packs, ancient and powerful and not particularly known for their flexibility or mercy. They make the rules, enforce the laws, and generally operate with the kind of authority that makes even alphas nervous.
But I don’t understand why they would care about me. I’m nobody. Just a woman who found out a few weeks ago that werewolves exist and that apparently I’m fated to five of them. That’s pack business, private business, nothing that should concern the Council unless we’re breaking some law I don’t know about.
I sit up properly now, dislodging Ezra’s hands and pulling my legs from River’s lap, and turn to face Corrian directly.
"Why would the Council want to see me?" My heart’s pounding but my voice comes out steady, which I count as a victory. "I’ve been learning about pack politics and structure, but Vaela never mentioned anything about me being significant to them. What am I missing?"
Corrian opens his mouth to answer, but before he can speak, Jax cuts in from the floor. He’s twisted around to face me, his usual playfulness completely absent, replaced by something more serious that sits strangely on his features.
"You’re different, Frankie. That’s what matters to them. They want to understand what you are."
The frustration that’s been building in my chest finally breaks free, sharpening my voice more than I intend.
"Everyone keeps saying that. Everyone keeps telling me I’m different, I’m special, I’m significant. But nobody has actually explained what that means. Different how? Special in what way? I’m tired of being treated like I’m some kind of supernatural unicorn without anyone bothering to tell me why."
The room goes very quiet. Even the movie seems to fade into background noise, meaningless sound that can’t compete with the weight of this conversation.
All five of them watching me, all taking time for careful consideration of how to respond, and it only makes my irritation spike higher. I’m not fragile. I’m not going to shatter if they tell me difficult truths. I’ve already had my entire understanding of reality fundamentally altered, learning one more impossible thing isn’t going to break me.
Ezra shifts behind me, and when he speaks his voice is gentle in a way that catches my attention. Ezra is many things, intense, possessive, protective, dominant, but gentle is not usually his default setting. When he chooses gentleness, it’s significant.
"You’re different because of what you are," he says quietly. "Because of your designation. Your nature."
I turn to look at him, searching his face for clues about where this is going, and find his dark eyes fixed on me. He looks like he’s bracing himself, whatever he’s about to say is going to hurt him as much as it might hurt me.
Before he can continue, Corrian interrupts, his voice carrying a note of warning.
"Ezra, maybe we should wait. Talk to the Council first, get more information before we—"
"No." The word’s sharp, and Ezra’s gaze snaps to Corrian with enough force that I actually feel the other man flinch. "I’ve vowed not to lie to our mate. Not directly, not by omission, not by deciding what she can and can’t handle. She deserves the full truth, and she deserves it now."
