Chapter 6
643words
Hundreds of wolves stood frozen, trying to process what they had just witnessed.
A spirit wolf—especially one of Fenrir's magnificent form—choosing someone other than the summoner was unprecedented.
It simply didn't happen.
Then Cassandra's sob shattered the quiet.
She fell to her knees before Fenrir's massive form, her hands pressed to her face as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice carrying across the silent crowd. "I never wanted this. I never asked for it."
Every word perfectly timed, perfectly pitched to tug at heartstrings.
"All my life, I've felt empty," she continued, her voice growing stronger as she addressed the crowd. "Like something was missing from my soul. My parents died when I was young—I had no Pack, no family, no guidance about spirit bonds."
The crowd began to murmur sympathetically.
"I thought I was defective," Cassandra's voice cracked with perfectly crafted vulnerability. "Broken. Unworthy of any guardian's notice."
She turned toward me, her tear-filled eyes wide with what appeared to be genuine confusion and pain.
"Sienna, I swear on my parents' graves, I never knew. I never understood why I felt so drawn to you, why I wanted to be close to you. Now I see—it wasn't friendship I was feeling."
Her voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried to every corner of the gathering.
"It was my spirit wolf, trapped inside you, calling out to me."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"You used dark magic," Cassandra accused, rising to her feet with newfound determination. "You stole what was meant for me. You bound my guardian to yourself before I was old enough to claim him properly."
The accusation hit the crowd like a lightning bolt.
Voices erupted from every direction:
"Dark magic!"
"She stole another's spirit wolf!"
"Disgusting!"
"Traitor to the ancient ways!"
Elder Whitehawk raised his staff, demanding order, but the damage was done.
I remained standing by the Recognition Stone, watching this performance unfold exactly as it had before.
The accusations hit me like physical blows, each one designed to tear down everything I was, everything I'd been raised to become.
But this time, I had an advantage they didn't know about.
I could sense Damon in the crowd, his presence steady and reassuring. The detection runes we had carefully woven into the ground last night lay dormant, waiting for my signal.
"Look at her!" Cassandra pointed at me with trembling fingers. "Even now, she shows no remorse! No surprise! She knew this would happen because she orchestrated it!"
I met her accusation with a calm smile that seemed to unnerve her.
"You're absolutely right, Cassandra," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the gathering. "I'm not surprised at all."
The crowd's murmur faltered, confusion replacing anger.
"Because," I continued, letting my gaze sweep across the gathering before landing on her frightened face, "I've seen this exact performance before."
Cassandra's face went pale.
"Tell me," I asked conversationally, "did you really think no one would notice? That scent of old bones and decay that clings to forbidden rituals?"
The crowd's reaction was immediate and chaotic:
"What is she talking about?"
"What forbidden rituals?"
"What scent?"
"She is lying!"
I felt the weight of hundreds of stares, but this time it wasn't universal condemnation—it was confusion, uncertainty, and the first seeds of doubt.
Cassandra's performance was cracking. Her perfectly timed tears had stopped, and her eyes darted frantically to the edge of the crowd.
"You're lying!" she shrieked, her composure finally shattered. "You're just trying to confuse everyone!"
I felt a subtle shift in the crowd's energy. Doubt was creeping in, but it wasn't enough.
Time for the real revelation.
I glanced toward where Damon stood, and caught the barely perceptible nod he gave me.
Our signal.
It was time to show them the truth.
