Chapter 5—The Weight Of The Crown.

Donald's POV

Before Rebecca

The council chamber was cold even in summer.

Stone floors. High ceilings. Three windows that faced north, so the sun never reached the table where the elders sat. I had been coming to this room since I was twenty-two years old, called to account for decisions I had made, territories I had defended, and wolves I had lost.

Today, they called me to account for something else.

"We are not getting any younger, Alpha." Elder Magnus spoke first, as he always did. His voice was dry as old paper. "And neither are you."

"I am thirty-four."

"Exactly. Thirty-four. No Luna. No heir. No mate." He folded her hands on the table. "The pack watches. They whisper. They wonder if their Alpha is... complete."

I kept my face still. "I am complete enough to have tripled our territory and doubled our treasury in six years."

"Numbers are not children, Donald." Councilman Thalos leaned forward. He was the second in command of the elders, barely sixty, and he had never been afraid of me the way the others were. "Numbers do not carry the bloodline. Numbers do not sit beside you at ceremonies and remind the other packs that we are stable. The BlackMoon Pack needs a Luna. Not for you. For us."

"You have managed without one this long."

"Barely." Magnus's voice sharpened. "The Silverfang Alpha asked me personally at the last convocation, asked me, Alpha, to my face, whether our pack was in decline. Whether you were... capable."

I went very still. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him you were the strongest Alpha in the region. But I should not have to answer such questions at all. A mated alpha is a respected alpha. An unmated alpha is a question mark." He paused. "You know what happened to your father."

The words landed like a blow I had trained myself not to feel.

My father had been Alpha for thirty-one years. He was strong, respected, and feared. My mother was Luna, loved and respected by all.

I came home one day to find them slaughtered. They say it was an invasion by rival packs, but I know better to believe that it wasn't done by an inside man.

"You dare," I said quietly, "to compare me to my father."

"I dare to tell you the truth." Magnus did not flinch. "You are not your father. You are harder and colder. You have built what he could not. But you are still an Alpha without a Luna, and that makes you a target. Every unmated female in every pack within five hundred miles watches you. Every rival Alpha watches you. And some of them wonder quietly and carefully, whether you can be... tempted."

The silence stretched between us like a wire pulled tight.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"A Luna," Thalos said. "We do not care how you find her. We need stability. Give us that, and we will give you the space to run this pack as you see fit."

"And if I refuse?"

Magnus and Thalos exchanged a glance. Briefly, but I caught it.

"Then," Magnus said slowly, "we would have to consider whether the pack's needs are being... prioritized."

It was the closest any elder had ever come to threatening me.

I stood up. My chair scraped against the stone floor, and the sound echoed through the chamber like a gunshot.

"You will have your Luna," I said. "Not because you asked. Not because you threatened. But because I am tired of this conversation. I will find someone suitable. I will bring her here. And you will never speak to me about my father again."

I walked out before they could respond.

—-----------

In the corridor, Rowan waited. He took one look at my face and said nothing — just fell into step beside me.

"I need a woman," I said. "Someone who will sign a contract and keep her mouth shut. Find her."

"Any other requirements, Alpha?"

I thought about it. "She should be someone with nothing to lose. Someone who will not ask questions. Someone who understands that this is business, not... whatever else people think it is."

Rowan nodded. "I know someone. Give me a week."

I did not ask for details. I did not want them.

—---------

The city was heavy the day Rowan called to say she had arrived.

Meetings that went nowhere. Numbers that refused to add up the way I wanted. And by the time I left the office, my jaw was tight, and my wolf was restless. That was nothing new. Eight years of restlessness. Eight years of nothing.

I had stopped believing in the mate bond a long time ago. I had seen it happen to others, watched wolves find their match, and light up like houses on fire. But I had stopped believing it would happen to me. The Moon, in all her infinite design, had apparently decided that I would stand in every room, scent every crowd, attend every gathering, and feel nothing.

So when the council pressed me for Luna, I told Rowan to find someone. A contract. Five years. A symbol to keep the elders quiet.