Page 40 of Iron Beneath the Snow

“I am what your Alpha claimed.”

Soren met her gaze across the table.

Bren let out a soft breath through his nose.

“And what would that be?”

Eira did not look away.

“A decision.”

The silence that followed was heavier now, pressing into the space between them.

Soren set his cup down, the quiet sound grounding the moment before it could sharpen further.

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice even but leaving no room for continuation.

Around the table, wolves returned to their food with a little more noise than before, as if the act itself helped disperse what had gathered.

No one challenged him.

They did not need to.

He had not defended her, and he had not elevated her, but he had made it clear where the boundary lay.

The rest of the meal passed in quieter conversation, shifting toward logistics, patrol rotations, and supply routes—subjects that required attention but not tension.

When it ended, the wolves rose without ceremony and began to disperse.

Eira stood as well, without waiting for instruction.

Soren noticed that too. Good.

As the hall thinned, she did not move toward the exit with the others, but instead stepped closer to the central fire, the light catching along the line of her profile.

Soren remained seated for a moment after the others began to leave, watching the last movements at the table as the hall gradually emptied.

Then he rose and followed.

By the time he reached the central fire, its flames had settled lower, no longer dominating the space but holding a steady, contained glow that cast shifting light across the stone.

“You handled that deliberately,” he said.

Eira glanced at him, the movement small but precise.

“So did you.”

A faint acknowledgment passed between them.

“They were testing you,” he continued. “Not openly, but enough to see where you would bend.”

She watched the embers shift before answering.

“They wanted to see if I would fracture.”

“And I wanted to see the same,” he said.

There was no attempt to soften it.