Free Web NovelChapter 314: Chapter 314 Oath Time
Daniel
The afternoon runs on calendars, vendor calls, a mediation about a parking spot that somehow turned into a feud last winter and a visit from Fallon to go over roster changes Ethan pushed from Ops. Fallon is stone on the outside and steady on the inside, the perfect Gamma. He tracks every detail I hand him, asks three sharp questions, and leaves with a plan for the south ridge that doesn’t rely on anyone being heroic.
At 4:30PM, father calls me back to the conference room. The Alpha manual sits open now, flanked by two chairs placed a degree too far apart to feel like collaboration.
"Sit," he says.
I do.
He laces his fingers. "The pack is watching," he says, a fact so obvious it doesn’t deserve air. "You will not undermine your Alphas by chasing the approval of people who haven’t earned the right to instruct you."
He means Allison without saying her name, he means the Royals without saying that either and he means me standing next to Ezra last night looking like I was about to tell Ethan to stop being cruel in public.
"I won’t undermine my Alphas," I say. "I’ll also make sure ground truth is recorded when someone tries to rewrite it."
His mouth hardens a degree. "Be careful with grand ideals. They don’t keep borders secure."
"Evidence does," I say, and let it hang.
He studies my face for a long beat. "You’re too attached to your archives," he says finally.
"I like records," I answer. "People do better when they know they’re accountable."
He could push. He doesn’t. "Go run," he says. Which is father-code for you’re in my way and I don’t want to keep saying things you won’t accept.
I go.
The track is half full, warriors sweating the day off, Omegas cutting laps because stress lives in kitchens too, and one elder walking the inside line with his granddaughter on his shoulders. I nod to people I know without stopping them and I set the tripod at the corner where the field light gives clean frames and start a new file on my phone; AG-FOOTWORK-07.
Allison arrives at 6:13PM in running shoes and an oversized hoodie that hides nothing if you know what to look for. She ties her hair up, tucks the strings into the collar, and jogs one slow lap to warm up. I set the camera and step back.
"Clock me," she says.
"On your call," I say.
She moves when she’s ready. The first pass is all straight lines, pace, breath and check marks. The second pass she adds the pivot I wanted to capture, the one from the fight at the falls when she slipped a sweep and used the rock like a partner. On the third she integrates a feint I haven’t seen, one that would pull a wolf off balance without giving him a clean anchor.
’She learns fast,’ Ash says, impressed.
I call splits every 200 and mark the turns where her left foot still overcommits a fraction. We break for water after four laps.
"Show me :14," she says, leaning on the rail. freёweɓnovel.com
I scrub the clip and hold the screen up. "Left foot here," I say. "You set him up, but you could have saved a half-second if you’d cut the angle three degrees tighter."
She watches twice. "Got it."
We run it again and she lands the cut this time. I keep the camera rolling and let the muscle memory do what it’s built to do.
Elijah appears at the far gate, wave small, presence large. He keeps his distance and leans on the fence like a person resting after a day he didn’t get to finish. He doesn’t interrupt. Ezra texts to say he’s at Ops with Ethan working a vendor issue. My father pings my mindlink once.
’Where are you?’ He asks, gruff as always.
’Track, filming footwork,’ I answer without extras.
We finish at 7:12PM. Allison pulls her hoodie back on and walks a cool-down lap with me. Elijah stays where he is and doesn’t push for proximity. It’s a small thing but it’s also not.
"Got what you needed?" she asks.
"I got enough to show a classroom how to fix a choice in real time," I say. "And enough to shut up anyone who says you ran on luck."
She smirks. "Who says I didn’t?"
"Me," I say. "I say you didn’t."
She holds my gaze a second longer than usual. "Thank you."
"Always," I say.
Back in Admin, I dump the footage into TRAIN/FOOTWORK/AG, tag a copy for Ops - Training Deck, and send a private link to Allison and Ezra. I lock one more copy behind my offsite sync and add the note, AG pivot :14 corrected at :42. It’s small but it’s also what I can do without asking permission.
When I’m closing my laptop, Security Audit pings back about the quarantined email; Header captured, body held. Good catch, beta. We’ll loop in a witch for sigil verification if necessary. No names, no promises but that’s fine. It’s on the board.
I print two of the macro seal photos at wallet size and slip them into a paperback I’ve read three times. The book goes into my backpack, which goes home with me and the thumb drive stays on my keys.
On my way out, I pass the corridor where the Alpha’s offices sit. Father’s door is cracked and voices carry my father’s steady, Alpha Jack’s weight like always and my mother’s a softer thread trying to turn an absolute into something we can actually live with. I don’t slow down. I don’t need to hear the words to know the shape.
Outside, the air runs cooler. Lights from the packhouse terrace cut across the square and I stop at the edge of the grass to watch two kids chase each other in uneven circles until their mother calls them in. None of this should be politics. All of it is.
’Oath time,’ Ash says.
I speak it out loud, low so it stays mine. "Keep the Alpha honest, the ranks moving, and the truth accounted for. Speak when silence would harm."
Silence won’t harm tonight. Evidence will help later and I can wait.
My phone vibrates once.
Unknown: We see you, mind your lanes. No origin, no signature. The kind of message meant to unsettle.
I take a screenshot, forward it to Security Audit with the tag harassment, unknown, and then drop a copy into PINEBOX/MAIL/TEXT. I delete the message from my inbox and I don’t delete the record. We never delete the record.
On the walk to my apartment above the gear shop, I pass the bookstore. The lights are off and the display is neat, the sticky note on the staff-picks shelf says For anyone who wants a story where the girl doesn’t apologize for being sharp. I take a photo through the glass and send it to Allison without a caption.
Allison: Come say that to my face Wednesday.
Me: Wouldn’t miss it.
I climb the outside stairs, let myself in, and drop my keys in the bowl by the door. The drive on the ring clicks against the ceramic. I set the Beta manual on the counter and put a sticky on the first page; Addendum (unofficial), keep receipts.
Ash settles like a shadow at my shoulders. ’You did fine,’ he says.
’I did enough,’ I answer. ’Tomorrow we do more.’
He doesn’t argue, he agrees silently and knows the plan is already in motion.
