Elena’s POV
I keep my eyes on the shipping manifest, refusing to let the tension in the air distract from the numbers. "If your delivery is missing items, we can do a recount. If sothing got mislabeled during transport, that’s a logistics issue, not about power gas."
The Alpha’s jaw clenches tighter. "This isn’t about inventory."
"But it is about supplies," I answer back. "That’s exactly why we’re all here today."
A few people in the crowd start whispering. Soone lets out a quiet laugh. Not an, but not friendly either. Just the sound of relief when soone refuses to play along with obvious bait.
The pack leader’s face turns red, color creeping up from his collar. "You can’t just change the subject every single ti."
"Actually, I can," I say without changing my tone. "And I’m going to keep doing it. This supply exchange works because we focus on facts, not on who can talk the loudest."
"That sounds like you’re running away from the real conversation," he shoots back.
"It’s called staying on topic," Ruth cuts in sharply, not bothering to look up from her paperwork. "You agreed to follow neutral territory rules. This isn’t the place for pack politics."
He spins around to face her. "Stop hiding behind those forms."
She finally lifts her head, and her stare could cut glass. "Stop hiding behind outdated power plays."
That gets so sharp gasps from the crowd. Soone swears under their breath. The whole clearing feels like it’s holding its breath.
I lift my hand just a little. Not to shut anyone up. Just to pump the brakes.
It’s a small gesture, but everyone sees it.
"Count the supply crates," I say in my calst voice. "Or submit a formal complaint through the right channels. Pick one."
The silence stretches out. Awkward. Public. Everyone’s watching.
The Alpha looks around, hunting for support that isn’t coming. So of his own pack mbers won’t even et his eyes, suddenly fascinated by their boots. A leader from one of the bigger packs makes a pointed throat-clearing sound.
"You’re holding up everyone else’s business," another pack leader calls out. "Either deal with it or get out of the way."
The pressure in the crowd shifts. Not toward anymore. All of it landing on him.
"Fine," he mutters through gritted teeth. "Let’s count the damn crates."
The mont breaks.
He backs down in front of everyone, and I can see the fight drain out of his posture as the exchange gets back to normal. The whole neutral territory seems to let out one big breath. Shoulders relax. Conversations start up again. That fragile pretense of keeping things peaceful falls back into place.
Asher catches my eye from across the clearing and gives one quick nod.
Hours later, after the last signatures get recorded and the final truck pulls away, the clearing empties out in scattered groups. People leave fast, like sticking around might lead to honest conversations or more fights. The dust settles back down. The quiet cos back, shaky and thin.
He finds near the edge of the territory.
No crowd to play to this ti.
"This whole ss is your fault," he says instead of hello.
I turn to face him completely. "You’re going to have to be more specific than that."
"You tear down everything that keeps our world stable," he says, pacing back and forth like moving around will make his point sharper. "You make it impossible for leaders to maintain respect without looking like bullies."
"Any system that only works when people stay quiet isn’t really working," I reply.
"Easy words when you don’t have to answer to a pack," he snaps.
I tilt my head slightly. "I answer to reality."
"You think you’re superior to the rest of us," he says, and now the bitterness is bleeding through his voice.
"No," I reply. "I think our systems should be strong enough to handle honest questions."
He moves closer. Not threatening exactly. More like frustrated. His voice gets quieter. "You ss everything up by sitting in the middle and pretending you’re not picking sides."
"I’m picking truth," I say. "Neutral territory was always a lie. It still is."
"The old ways kept us alive," he argues.
"So did learning to change," I reply. "And you’re still breathing. That ans you figured out how to do both."
He shakes his head, breathing hard. "You’re pulling the ground out from under all of us."
"Only by letting people stand on solid ground for once," I say.
"People like you burn down everything that works and call it improvent," he says bitterly.
"People like you mistake surviving with being right," I reply, keeping my voice level.
That stops him cold.
He stares at for a long mont, jaw tight, eyes searching for sothing solid to push against that just isn’t there. Sothing concrete enough to justify all this anger.
"You’re going to be sorry about this," he says finally.
"Maybe," I reply. "But not for the reasons you’re thinking."
He walks away furious, shoulders locked up tight, carrying his anger like a weapon he hasn’t figured out how to put down yet.
Ruth finds a few minutes later, clipboard under her arm, eyes alert and sharp.
"That Alpha has friends," she says quietly.
"I know."
"More than just a few," she adds. "And so of them have loud voices."
"I’m aware of that," I reply.
She looks at for a long mont, hunting for signs of worry or fear and coming up empty. "Neutral territory won’t protect you much longer."
I look back toward the clearing, already mostly empty, the illusion of balance disappearing with the dust clouds from the last transport truck.
"I know," I say again.
This ti, it doesn’t catch off guard.
Neutral territory was never about safety.
It was just about buying ti.
And borrowed ti always runs out eventually.
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