Chapter Five: Bars, Bacon, and Buried Truths

Sleeping in the pack jail wasn't how I'd planned to spend the night, but here I was, sprawled on a creaky cot in the dank cell beneath the pack house, chasing rest that wouldn't come. The walls loomed around me, rough stone etched with claw marks from past occupants—rogues, drunks, or hotheads like me. The air stank of mould and rust, a slow drip of water plinking from the ceiling into a puddle near the corner. A grimy bucket sat by the bars, the so-called toilet, its stench a sour reminder of where I'd landed. Fair to say, I never thought I'd end up back here—not after the last time.

I'd been a kid then, just eight, small and scrappy, caught swiping bread from the kitchen stores and a rusty dagger from the shed. Dumb, desperate grabs, driven by an empty belly and the ache of losing my parents two years before—rogues had torn them apart, leaving me an orphan in a pack that barely knew what to do with me. The council had locked me up for a night, a harsh lesson for a runt, but Cade's dad—alpha back then—saw something worth salvaging. He'd started me training for beta a few years later when Cade and I had become friends, pulling me out of that hole. I'd sworn I'd never see these bars again, yet here I was, thirteen years later, the irony bitter as the mould on my tongue.

At least they'd stuck Shane in a cell down the hall, far enough that I couldn't hear his whining—or rip his throat out. After last night, I wasn't sure I'd stop myself if I got the chance. My knuckles still ached from his jaw, a dull throb syncing with the bruise Cade had left on mine during training. Sleep was a lost cause; my wolf paced inside me, restless, clawing at the cage of my ribs.

The heavy clank of the outer door jolted me upright. Footsteps echoed down the concrete corridor, soft but purposeful. I squinted through the dimness, the single bulb overhead flickering like it was on its last breath. Diana emerged from the shadows, her dark hair tangled, her steps hesitant. The bruises on her face had faded to faint yellows, wolf healing doing its work, but the cuts still stood out, raw and pink.

"Come to bust me out?" I said, forcing a smile, leaning against the bars. Her lips twitched, a ghost of a smirk, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"I wish I could," she sighed, her voice heavy with sadness. She stopped a few feet away, fidgeting with her sleeves. "Did you hear they might kick Shane out of the pack?"

"Yeah, I did," I said, keeping my tone neutral, watching her closely.

"I, uh..." She paused, her brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I love him, you know."

"Diana..." I started, disbelief tightening my chest.

She cut me off, words tumbling out fast. "I know what he did wasn't right. I know I'm an idiot, but deep down, I really do love him. If he gets kicked out, I don't know what I'll do." Her hands drifted to her stomach, a subtle move, but my heightened senses caught it—the faint, sweet tang of pregnancy in her scent. Not far along, maybe a few weeks, but there it was. My jaw clenched; love or not, that shouldn't chain her to a bastard like Shane.

I studied her, the anger from last night flaring anew. "Diana, you can't be serious. You came to me for help, and now you're taking it back?" My voice rose, sharp with frustration. I'd thrown that punch for her, landed in here for her, and she was unravelling it all.

"I thought I could just talk to you," she mumbled, staring at the floor, shame curling her shoulders. "I didn't know you'd run off ready to fight him."

"I don't think you believe what you're saying," I said, softer now, catching the tears brimming in her eyes. "If he gets kicked out tomorrow, that's his problem. Don't blame yourself for this."

"But—" she started, voice cracking.

"No," I cut in, firm but not harsh. "It's his fault. He deserves what's coming. If they boot him, he can't touch you again, and the pack will help—with everything." I didn't say "baby" out loud, but my eyes flicked to her stomach. She'd get it.

Tears spilled over, and she closed the gap, wrapping her arms around me through the bars. The cold iron pressed into my chest, but I hugged her back, her sobs shaking us both. "Thank you," she whispered, voice muffled against my shirt. I knew she was scared, clinging to excuses, but maybe she'd see sense eventually. She pulled away, offering a shaky goodbye, and shuffled off, leaving me alone again.

I flopped back onto the cot, the springs groaning under me. Sleep still dodged me, the drip-drip-drip of water a maddening rhythm. My mind churned—Shane's sneer, Diana's tears, Cade's disappointed glare. By the time dawn crept through the high window, I'd barely dozed, exhaustion a dull ache behind my eyes.

They hauled me out mid-morning, the enforcers' grips firm as they marched me upstairs to the council chamber—a cavernous room off the main hall, all polished wood and stern faces, packed tight with packmates. The high council sat on a raised dais, five wolves in their fifties and sixties, draped in dark robes that screamed authority. Their eyes bore into me, sharp and unyielding, as I stood below them, hands clasped behind my back, jaw still tender. The room thrummed with over a hundred wolves—Matt, Shauna, Electra, Lila, Dr. Ellis, Ryn, Jace, Tobin's wife Mara, Lysa's son Kael, and dozens more—lining the walls, crowding the benches, spilling into the aisles. A thousand wolves in the pack meant a trial like this was a damn spectacle, especially with the beta on the block. Faces I knew from patrols, kitchens, training grounds, and late-night runs stared back—curious, judging, some sympathetic, their murmurs a restless hum rising like a tide.

The council wasn't just for show; they were the backbone of a pack this size—a thousand wolves sprawling across miles of forest and hills. Cade couldn't wrangle it all alone, alpha or not. The high council—five elected elders, each a former pillar of the pack—kept order, settled disputes, and doled out justice when Cade's hands were full. They'd been forged in his dad's era, steering us through rogue wars and territory grabs, their word nearly as iron as the alpha's. Today, they were all here: Gavyn, wiry with a grey-streaked beard and hawkish eyes, the head; Mara, a silver-haired healer with a no-nonsense stare; Tobin, a broad ex-enforcer with scarred knuckles; Lysa, lean and sharp-tongued, once a scout; and Eldon, quiet but piercing, a tactician who'd outwitted rivals.

The enforcers were the pack's muscle, my right hand—or damn near equal, depending who you asked. Six wolves, handpicked by me and Cade, built like brick walls and trained to keep the peace. They had almost the same clout I did—authority to patrol borders, haul in troublemakers, and throw punches when sanctioned—though as beta, I outranked them in title and responsibility. They were the brawn to my brain, the fists when my orders needed teeth. Right now, two flanked me: Ryn, a stocky redhead with a perpetual scowl, his meaty hand twitching; and Jace, lanky but fast, dark eyes flicking between me and the council. The other four—Kael, Mira, Dax, and Soren—stood among the crowd, arms crossed, watching. They'd dragged me here, loyal but bound by pack law, their presence a reminder I wasn't the only one keeping this beast of a pack in line.

"Kyan, you are on trial for the attack on Mr. Shane Landwright," Gavyn intoned, his gravelly voice slicing through the room's hum. He leaned forward, peering over his notes. "What do you plead?"

Witnesses had seen it—Shane's crumpled form, my fist in motion, blood on the hardwood floors. No point denying it. "Guilty," I said, loud and clear. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd, a wave of shock and chatter, but I didn't flinch, keeping my eyes on Gavyn.

The Councillors exchanged glances, papers rustling as Gavyn pressed on. "Do you have a reason for what you did?"

I scanned the room, spotting Diana near the back, head bowed, half-hidden behind a cluster of wolves. I pointed at her, my arm cutting through the thick air. "He was beating Diana. When I saw her face—bruised, cut up—I couldn't control my anger." Her shoulders hunched, embarrassment clear even from here. Most of her bruises had faded overnight, but the faint cuts still marked her skin, a silent testament the crowd could still see if they squinted.

Gavyn's eyes narrowed, flicking to Diana, then back to me. "We're under the assumption you and Diana had a sexual relationship in the past?" He paused, letting the question hang, the room's hum dipping as ears perked up. "Are you sure this wasn't jealousy?"

My gaze darted to Cade, near the dais, arms crossed, his scowl deepening. He shook his head slightly, a warning. How the hell did they know about me and Diana? I'd kept it quiet, but a thousand wolves meant gossip spread like wildfire—enforcers probably caught wind from late-night patrols or bar talk, feeding it to the council. "That was in the past," I said, voice steady. "We stayed friends after. She moved on."

"Why do you think she told you about this and not your alpha?" Gavyn nodded at Cade, who stiffened, hazel eyes flashing.

"I don't know," I admitted, echoing her words from last night. "Guess she felt she could trust me."

"Why didn't you go to your alpha—or the enforcers—immediately?" His tone sharpened, Mara's silver eyes glinting with the same question, Tobin's scarred hands flexing on the table.

I shifted, the truth gnawing at me. "I let my anger get the best of me," I confessed, shoulders slumping slightly. "Saw her face, heard her story, and I just... acted. Should've called Ryn or Jace, let them handle it." I nodded at the enforcers beside me, Ryn's scowl deepening, Jace's jaw tight.

Gavyn flipped through his notes, his expression stern. "This isn't the first time your anger's been an issue, Kyan. Theft at eight—food, a knife—though you were young, grieving." He paused, peering over his glasses. "You're beta now, above the enforcers in rank, but not in impunity. Restraint is expected, especially from you. The enforcers have the muscle to act on your orders—they patrol, they enforce—but you're the one who's supposed to keep a level head."

I nodded, swallowing hard. "I understand."

"But," he continued, voice softening a fraction, "as beta, one of your duties is to protect pack members. You went about it wrong—violence isn't our way unless sanctioned by Cade or us—but given the reason, we're not blind to your intent." He glanced at the others—Mara's curt nod, Tobin's grunt, Lysa's pursed lips, Eldon's steady gaze—and they murmured agreement. "You'll attend anger management classes, twice a week, until we deem it unnecessary. And you're off patrol duty until further notice—effective immediately."

My stomach dropped, a cold jolt cutting through the relief. "Wait—off patrol?" I stepped forward, voice rising, the crowd's murmurs swelling. "A thousand wolves, miles of borders—we're stretched thin as it is. Rogues hit us last month; we need every pair of eyes out there. I can't just sit on my hands!"

Gavyn's eyes hardened, his hand slamming the table, silencing the room. "You'll sit where we tell you, Kyan. A thousand wolves or not, your temper's a liability—last night proves it. The enforcers can handle patrols; they're the muscle, and they'll step up. This isn't a negotiation—it's punishment. You want back on? Prove you've got control." Mara's stare bored into me, unyielding, while Tobin cracked his knuckles, a quiet threat.

I clenched my fists, teeth grinding, but Cade's sharp look—half warning, half resignation—kept me from pushing further. "Understood," I muttered, the word tasting like ash, my head dipping as the ruling sank in. Anger management and no patrols—a double gut punch, stripping me down when the pack needed me most.

"Thank you," I forced out, voice tight, as the room erupted, packmates filing out, their chatter swelling. Shane's trial was next, slated for within the hour, but I had no stomach for it. Diana's choice—defend him or damn him—was hers now. I'd done my part, and it'd cost me.

My stomach growled, loud and insistent, reminding me I hadn't eaten since Matt's measly tray last night—stale bread and cold chicken. I beelined for the kitchen, the house quieter with most of the pack lingering for Shane's reckoning. The kitchen was empty, sunlight streaming through the windows, glinting off the worn countertops. I raided the fridge—bacon, eggs, a stick of butter—and fired up the stove, the sizzle of fat hitting the pan a balm to my frayed nerves. The smell of frying bacon curled into the air, rich and smoky, making my mouth water.

"That smells good. Can you cook me some?" a voice piped up behind me. I'd sensed her before she spoke—Electra's scent, wildflowers and a hint of sweat, sharp to my beta senses. Handy perk, knowing who's sneaking up.

I turned, grinning, crossing my arms over my chest. "Didn't hear a please." My tone was light, teasing, but my pulse kicked up a notch—damn it, not now.

She grinned back, stepping closer, her ponytail swaying. "Fine... Please?" She pouted, lips jutting out, and I caught myself thinking it was cute. Too cute. I spun back to the stove, hiding the heat creeping up my neck, and tossed more bacon and eggs into the pan. Cade's protective streak was already a thing—this was before any formal deal—but I felt it anyway. Had to watch myself.

Her presence burned at my back, a prickling awareness I couldn't shake. I stole glances from the corner of my eye—she perched on a stool, staring at the counter, lost in thought, her brow furrowed. Something was off. I plated the food, sliding hers across the island, and dug into mine, the salty crunch of bacon grounding me. "You okay?" I asked, fork paused mid-air, concern slipping out despite myself.

She nodded, snapping out of her daze. "I'm fine. Thanks for the food." Her smile was tight, not reaching her sparkling green eyes, and I wasn't convinced.

We ate in silence, the clink of forks unnerving against the quiet. I'd finished minutes ago, my plate clean, but I lingered, studying her when she wasn't looking. She'd grown into herself since those gangly kid days—chubby cheeks sharpened into high cheekbones, full lips that'd turn heads, eyes like emeralds catching the light. She probably drove half the pack wild without trying. I shouldn't be noticing—not like this.

She coughed, pulling my gaze back to neutral territory—the wall, safe and blank. "Well, uh, thanks for breakfast," she said, her polite smile strained as she stood, heading for the door.

I couldn't stop myself. "Is something wrong?" I called to her retreating back, my voice softer than I meant.

She froze, then turned slowly, eyes dropping to the floor. Her foot scuffed the tile, thumbs twiddling nervously. "I've had something on my mind," she admitted, her voice small. "We were good friends before I left, but Cade's got a problem with it now. I was just wondering why." She lifted her gaze, piercing me with those green eyes, searching for truth I couldn't give.

My throat tightened. No formal deal yet, but Cade's protectiveness was already a wall between us—amplified now with my patrol ban and this mess. Telling her would mean spilling pack politics, admitting he didn't trust me with her. "I don't know," I lied, shrugging, forcing a casual tone. "He's just protective, I guess. Alpha stuff."

Her lips pressed thin, doubt flickering across her face, but she didn't push. "Yeah. Maybe," she murmured, turning away again. The door swung shut behind her, leaving me alone with the lie and a sinking feeling I'd dodged a bullet—for now.