Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Great Summit (Part II)
Hazel's Pov
The sun dipped lower, bleeding gold across the stone basin. Shadows stretched long, curling around the Alphas like dark, grasping fingers. The morning's tension had eased slightly, but it was only a surface calm.
I could feel their eyes on me—calculating, hungry. Claws flexed beneath gloves; teeth were barely hidden behind forced, diplomatic expressions.
And then He appeared.
Massive. Towering. Broad as the gates of a fortress. His aura hit the basin before he did—heavy, jagged, and suffocating. He was a hurricane bound in muscle. Most Alphas entered a room to lead; he entered to consume.
"Red Wolf," he boomed, his voice rumbling through the stone like a localized earthquake. "I've heard stories. Cute stories. But I don't take orders from wolves who think power comes in whispers."
I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink.
"You don't take orders from anyone," I said, my voice steady and clear. "But that doesn't mean you get to destroy everything in your path just to prove you have one."
He chuckled—a wet, dangerous sound that made the air turn cold. "Path? I carve paths. I don't walk them."
Caleb shifted beside me. He didn't draw a weapon, but I felt Adam's awareness flicker through the bond—a predator recognizing a threat. Flora hummed inside me, her energy sharpening like steel under a whetstone.
"You think you scare me?" I asked. I didn't shout. I didn't have to. "You can roar until your lungs burst and crush stone under your boots. None of it matters if your actions leave no loyalty, no respect, and no survivors."
He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing mine. The air thickened until it was hard to breathe. Other Alphas took small, cautious steps backward, but I stood my ground.
"You talk too much," he growled, leaning into my space until I could smell the iron and musk on him. "Words are for those who cannot fight."
I smiled faintly. A wolf doesn't win by throwing blind fists. A wolf wins by letting the opponent reveal their own weakness.
"Then show me," I said simply. "Show me your strength."
His eyes flared. He lunged—not with his body, but with his Intent.
A massive wave of psychic pressure slammed into the basin. It was a "Presence Crush," designed to collapse a target's lungs and force them to their knees before a single blow was landed.
Flora surged.
She coiled around my spine, anchoring me to the ancient stone of the mountain. I felt the pressure hit, but instead of resisting it with brute force, I let my body relax into Flora's guidance. I let the shove wash over me like water over a diamond, then I stepped forward.
Into the pressure. Into his space.
"You'll have to do better than that," I whispered. "I've survived monsters who make you look like a cub."
The Alphas around us fell into a stunned silence.
He tried again. This time, he poured everything into it—a literal weight of dominance meant to shatter my will. Adam's energy flared in protection, but I held him back. Flora wrapped around me like a divine shield, sharpening my focus until the world slowed down.
I moved within the press of his power. I leaned into the wave, then redirected the flow. I felt him stumble—a single, micro-step. To anyone else, it was nothing. To an Alpha, it was a Defeat.
"Do it again," I challenged, my voice rising. "Push. Test me."
He roared—a true Alpha roar that rattled the trees and made the stone basin ring. But every surge of his presence was met by my stillness. I bent his energy, turned it aside, and let it dissipate into the mountain.
I hadn't touched a single hair on his head. I hadn't spilled a drop of blood. And yet, I was dismantling him in front of everyone.
Caleb's eyes burned with a fierce, quiet pride. He understood. This wasn't a hammer; it was a scalpel.
The massive Alpha froze, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with the realization that he was losing a fight he hadn't even started.
"Impressive," he spat, his voice tight with suppressed fury. "But strength like yours is dangerous... unpredictable."
"Good," I said, my gaze unflinching. "You'll need to be both if you hope to survive the world we're rebuilding."
A profound silence fell over the basin. The energy of thirty Alphas shifted—bending, assessing, recalculating their loyalties.
Caleb stepped forward, placing himself solidly beside me. "Hazel doesn't fight to impress," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a seasoned commander. "She fights to survive. And if you're smart, you'll remember that she is the only reason you still have a world to fight for."
The giant Alpha glared at him, then back at me. Finally, he exhaled a heavy, frustrated breath.
"You've got nerve," he admitted. "But don't think this changes the game. You've made enemies today."
"I didn't make enemies," I replied. "I made sure the strong knew where I stood. Loyalty and respect aren't given—they're earned. And everyone in this basin just saw who earned it."
Caleb's hand brushed mine—light, grounding, and full of unspoken support.
Flora curled tighter, her satisfaction radiating through my veins. The summit was far from over, and the negotiations would be brutal, but the first battle had been won.
Not with violence. But with Presence.