Chapter 82

Dominic’s POV

I sat by the window staring out. I tried to pick up the tea but my hands shook.

“Your strength will come back,” she’d said, all hopeful that morning. Was she lying to me, or lying to herself?

The healers did their song and dance, said the mate bond, blowing up tore through me like a wildfire, leaving nothing but scarred-up leftovers where my magic used to be. My wolf’s gone silent. Like, dead silent. Some days, I swear I can’t hear him at all, just a big empty in my head.

Then comes the knock. Soft, like she’s afraid I’ll shatter. Elora’s voice follows. “Dominic? Can I come in?”

“Always,” I rasp. I sound like sandpaper.

She comes in, all gliding and calm, which somehow makes everything feel a little less suffocating. She’s juggling a folder, papers threatening to mutiny, and hair tied up like she forgot to finish it.

“You missed breakfast,” she points out, shutting the door. “Council’s losing their patience.”

“Shocking,” I mutter, slumping further. “They’ve been counting the days till I screw up.”

She gives me that look, part teacher, part wolf-mom. “They’ve waited for leadership, not failure. You’re delivering, just not fast enough for their taste.”

I try for a grin. It’s pathetic. “You’re clocking more council hours than I am these days.”

“’Cause you trust me to,” she tosses back, simple as breathing.

That hits different. Not a complaint, just... fact. Which somehow stings more.

I turn away, watching those shards of sunlight scatter. “Maybe that’s the issue. Maybe I trust too damn easily.”

She’s beside me now, dropping the folder, her hand a quick touch on my shoulder. “Nope. You don’t trust easily, Dominic. You trust the right people. Sometimes the wrong ones just wear good masks.”

Ouch. Didn’t expect that to land so hard.

I let out this shaky breath. “She’ll run to her father,” I mumble. “You know it.”

Elora just stands there, silent. She gets it, though. Mira’s not the disappearing type, she’s got too much rage, too much pride. Luca’ll take her back, not for love, but for politics. And when he does... It’s gonna get bloody.

“Let her,” Elora says. Her voice is calm. “She wants war, she’ll find we’re not the pack she remembers.”

Her confidence amused me. The council’s already gossiping about how she moves, how she talks, like she owns the Luna title already. Some folks love it. Others, I couldn't speak for.

“You should go for me,” I blurt, nodding at the folder.

She blinks. “To the council?”

“Yeah. You know the ins and outs. Trade, borders, the Crescent Hollow mess, you basically brokered half of it. And…” The words stick, heavy as all hell. “I don’t have it in me today.”

She hesitates, and I can see her contemplating. “They’ll talk,” she warns, voice hushed. “They’ll say you’re...”

“Weak,” I finish. “They already do. Whatever. Let ’em. They’ll underestimate both of us.”

She exhales, gives a little nod. “As you say.”

There’s no snark. Just respect, plain and simple.

She turns, but I catch her wrist. “Elora.”

She glances back, and her eyes lock with mine. Something silent passes between us.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“For what?”

“For staying.”

Her throat works. “You would’ve stayed for me.”

Then she’s gone. I stare at the doorway, hollow inside. She’s right. I would’ve stayed. Doesn’t make any of this easier.

***

Later, hours gone and me running on fumes, I end up at the council chamber. Not supposed to be there, Elora’s clueless, but I need to see how they treat her when I’m not around.

Twelve seats, a big oak table, and an ancient crest staring down at everyone. Most seats filled. Warriors, old wolves, advisors. They start whispering the second Elora steps in. Eyes sharp, voices low.

She’s not wearing anything flashy. No crown, no armor. Just a plain black dress, sleeves shoved up, papers in hand, walking in like she owns the place.

“Alpha Dominic’s still recovering,” she announces, voice steady, even warm. “I’m here for him. On today’s agenda, border defense, resource allocation after the drought in the east.”

And just like that, she’s running the room.

Some folks grumbled, sure, but, shockingly, more than a few actually nodded their heads.

Elder Harwin, classic Harwin move, kicked back in his chair with that signature scowl. “Tell me, since when does the Luna get to call the shots if the Alpha hasn’t handed her the reins?”

Elora? Didn’t even blink. “He asked me to speak for him. If you’d rather leave the pack wide open while you all split hairs, I’m happy to let him know.”

A couple of younger Betas swapped grins. More whispers, this time approval.

Harwin’s face twisted up, but he just clamped his mouth shut.

Elora rolled right along, tackling numbers, rattling off reports, making it all sound like second nature. She didn’t just parrot facts; she broke them down, made her case, and steered the whole show. Arguments flared, she cooled ’em off. Squabbles popped up, she ironed them out.

And then, weirdly enough, everyone just... listened.

This room, usually a zoo, full of puffed-up pride and chest-thumping—suddenly went still when she talked. Even the usual doubters started hanging on her words. She didn’t stomp her foot and demand respect; she just... earned it.

Up on the balcony, I watched it all, something shifting deep in my gut.

I’d spent months dragging around the crown like a damn anchor, thinking leadership was all about barking orders and scaring people into line. Elora tore that idea to shreds. She didn’t throw her title around. She spoke with this conviction, this real, bone-deep belief. And honestly, that hit harder than fear ever could.

When it was all over, the council got up, one by one, bowing, not to me, but to her.

She either didn’t notice it, or just acted like she didn’t.

She scooped up her notes, thanked them like she meant it, and walked out.

I lingered, tucked behind a pillar, just watching the way folks stood around, sort of dazed, after she left.

“She’s got a way with words,” somebody muttered.

“She sounds like a real Luna,” another said.

Then this older guy, voice all wary, goes, “She’s turning into something bigger than that.”

***

By the time she made it back to my rooms, the sun had ducked out. I was still by the window, tea stone cold.

“How did it go?” I asked. Like I didn’t already know.

Elora set her folder down with a shrug. “Didn’t get eaten alive, so I’d call it a win.”

“They won’t,” I said, voice low. “They’re starting to get it. To see you.”

She scrunched her nose. “See me how?”

I finally turned, taking her in, strong as hell, but somehow gentler in the twilight. “When you talk, they shut up and listen.”

She hesitated, not sure if I was warning her or giving a compliment.

“They listen because they respect you,” I said. “Not because they’re scared. That’s rare around here.”

Elora looked like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. The air between us went heavy. Charged.

I broke first. “You’re what this pack needs, Elora. Even if they haven’t caught on yet.”

Her eyes went soft. “And what about you, Dominic? What do you need?”

That question landed like a punch. What did I need?

Forgiveness? Backbone? A break?

Hell if I knew.

All I managed was, “Time.”

She nodded, slow, like she understood too well. Paused at the door, looked over her shoulder. “Take it. I’ll keep things standing until you do.”

And then she was gone. I just stood there, heart going nuts in my chest, not with longing, but with something a hell of a lot scarier.

Hope.

The kind I’d forgotten was even possible.

Looking out the window, the truth finally smacked me right between the eyes.

Power’s got nothing to do with fear. It’s about faith.

And Elora was turning into the reason my pack still believed in anything at all.