Chapter 79 Meeting Alpha Stone 2

Chapter 79: Chapter 79 Meeting Alpha Stone 2

Talia’s POV

He stared at me. "You speak like a leader."

"Because I am a leader," I replied.

"You are a child," he said, waving his hand.

I held his gaze. "I am a survivor, and that is more important than age."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but it was not a smile.

"We will see," he said.

He leaned back in his throne and waved his hand at the guards. They bowed and left, closing the door behind them.

Then we were alone.

"I do not want peace," he said. His voice was flat and final. "I want blood. I want Shadowfang to suffer the way my pack has suffered, and I want your Alpha to watch his wolves starve the way mine have starved."

I said nothing. I just listened.

I watched his face as he spoke. The way his eyes darkened when he talked about his mate, the way his voice cracked when he mentioned the children who had died, and the way his hands trembled when he described the raids.

I realized that this was not a monster at all. This was a wolf who had been pushed too far, who had lost too much, and who had been forced to watch his pack suffer while his enemies prospered.

I understood that kind of pain, because I had felt it myself, in Cresswood, when I watched Celeste eat warm meals while I went to bed hungry, and when I watched Vivienne wear silk dresses while I wore rags.

I knew what it was like to be powerless, and I knew what it was like to fight back.

He told me about the winters his pack had endured, about the wolves who had frozen to death, and about the children who had gone to bed hungry. He told me about the raids Shadowfang had launched against his territory, about the wolves he had buried, and about the mate he had lost.

"She died because of you," he said. "Because your pack took the resources we needed to survive. I lost a lot of my pack members because your Alpha hoarded food while my people starved."

His voice broke on the last word.

I watched his hands shake, and watched his chest heave. He was not just angry. He was grieving. Still seriously grieving, even after all these years. I thought about my mother, about the fire, and about the way I still woke up gasping some nights.

Grief did not go away. You just learned to carry it, like he had, and like I had.

I did not interrupt, and I did not argue. I just listened.

I learned from Kaelen that listening was a weapon. Most people talked because they wanted to be heard, but Alpha Stone was different. He talked because he needed someone to know, someone to understand, and someone to see.

I let him pour out his pain, and I did not look away, because that was the least I could do.

When he was finished, his chest was heaving, and his hands were shaking. He looked old and tired and broken.

I was quiet for a moment, letting his words settle first. Then I spoke.

"You are right," I said.

He blinked. "What?"

"Shadowfang has done terrible things to your pack. I will not deny it, and I will not make excuses." My voice was steady. "But we cannot change the past. We can only change the future."

His eyes widened, just a fraction. Maybe he had not expected me to agree with him. He probably had expected me to argue, to deny everything, and to deflect his accusations. But I did none of those things.

His jaw tightened. "Pretty words."

"They are not just words." I stepped closer.

The fire from the hearth warmed my back, but his eyes were cold. I stopped when I was close enough to see the gray in his beard, the lines around his eyes, and the scars on his hands. He was old, but he was not weak. Age had not broken him. Grief had, and grief was something I understood.

"I did not come here to beg. I came here to offer you something real." I looked into his eyes.

"What could you possibly offer me?" he said, staring back at me.

"A future where your children do not go to bed hungry, an alliance where your wolves do not freeze in the winter, and a future where you are not alone," I said with a firm voice.

His eyes flickered, and something shifted behind them.

"You cannot promise that," he said.

"I can," I said. "And I will."

"Shadowfang has resources," I continued. "We have food, medicine, and land. We have more than we need, and you have less than you deserve."

"And you think giving us scraps will make up for what you have taken?" he said coldly.

"No." I shook my head. "But sharing what we have can be the first step toward something better."

He was quiet for a long moment. His eyes searched my face, looking for the lie, and looking for the trick. But he did not find one.

The silence stretched between us.

I did not fill it, and I did not rush. I just let him think, let him wrestle with my words, and let him decide if he would trust me or throw me out.

My heart was pounding, but I kept my face calm. I had survived fifteen years of Cresswood coldness and cruelty, so I could survive a few more minutes of silence.