CH.3

RORY

A collective gasp echoed through the circular room.

Elder Matthias's deep brown skin flushed darker beneath the ceremonial ivory mantle draped over his silk three-piece suit.

He looked barely thirty-five, his close-cropped black hair lined with aristocratic precision, projecting the sacred poise of a high statesman.

Beneath that polished exterior was a predator who took back-channel tithes from the very smuggling routes tearing the coast apart.

"Language, Alpha Moonridge!" Matthias struck his wooden gavel down on the stone dais. "You stand before the sacred authority of the ruling body."

"And you sit on a chair padded with my pack's gold!" I snarled, raking my nails across the polished oak of the podium with a shriek of scraping varnish. "Let's skip the performance, Elder. We all know which border cartels line your private accounts!"

The gallery detonated.

Outraged shouts crashed down from the high tiers in pure disbelief that a female had dared name the Council's corruption on the official record.

The air grew thick and sour with competing auras, the sheer pressure of dozens of dominant wolves rattling the antique glass fixtures overhead.

I didn't flinch. I bathed in the hatred, my chin lifted as venomous glares locked onto me from every corner of the room.

"Blood Ridge crossed my line three times last month, and my patrols sent them back in pieces. If you want peace, tell them to stop trespassing," I shouted over the mounting din, projecting my voice with enough frost to freeze the room mid-breath.

Alpha Darius Vollen of Blood Ridge rose in the gallery. He was a massive, scarred brute who, according to me, reeked of damp earth and bad intent.

"She lies!" Darius bellowed, thrusting a thick finger in my direction. "Her wolves ambushed my hunting party unprovoked. She can't even secure her own borders."

I tilted my head, watching him without blinking. "Your hunting party was carrying silver-tipped restraints and cutting paths two miles deep into my interior woods. Unless you were foraging for an aggressive jewelry collection, you came looking for a slaughter. You found one, you lost, so do better next time."

A ripple of quiet laughter washed through the lesser packs in the upper tiers.

Up in the royal viewing box, Evren's silver-grey eyes never left me. A faint spark of amusement softened the severe set of his mouth.

Beside Matthias sat Elder Corina. Though centuries old, she appeared frozen in her early thirties, her bone structure sharp enough to cut, skin porcelain-pale with raven-black hair braided into a coronet like an iron crown.

The heirloom rings stacked on her fingers had been stripped from rival bloodlines she'd quietly erased, her glassy emerald-green eyes tracking me with the cold calculation of an appraiser tallying salvage.

"Border skirmishes are merely symptoms, Alpha Moonridge," Corina's voice cut through the gallery's lingering chuckles.

 "The root rot's the governance of Shadow Moon itself. A territory without an established Alpha pair invites predation by its very nature.

The sacred covenants demand bloodline stability. Fail to produce a verified mate, and the mantle reverts to the Council's oversight."

Alpha Marrok Dane of Iron Fang stood up, smoothing his steel-grey jacket with practiced ease.

"The Elder speaks the truth," Marrok's tone remained smooth and cold. "Whispers persist that you butchered your own mate to retain absolute control over your territory.

A mateless Alpha's a defective Alpha. Under our founding charter, unverified mate status renders you legally unfit to govern."

"By pack succession law, Shadow Moon remains sovereign under the Widow's Provision of 1842. Furthermore, our intelligence proves Iron Fang and Blood Ridge coordinated those incursions to trigger this exact Council inquiry.

This isn't a legal hearing, Elders. It's state-sanctioned theft." Zane stepped forward from my shoulder, his jaw set hard.

A loud hum of whispers rose from the benches.

I smiled. It was the same flat, dangerous expression I'd worn in the cage right before breaking bone.

"Alpha Marrok." I let the icy weight of my Alpha aura spill across the floor, washing over the front row of wolves. "If I wanted to murder my mate for power, I would've aimed much higher than a border province.

And if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't bother with a knife. I'd let you talk yourself to death—it seems to be your only talent. Keep my name out of your mouth before I remove your teeth!"

Marrok choked on his breath, anger leaving him momentarily speechless as he gripped the brass rail of the gallery.

Matthias hammered the block with furious cracks. "Order! You'll control your aura, Alpha Moonridge, or my guards will restrain you."

"Try it!" I challenged, my eyes flashing silver at the rim.

The chamber detonated.

Alphas leapt to their feet, shouting over one another, demanding I be stripped of rank, bound, and thrown into the holding cells.

The collective roar of dozens of dominant wolves crashed down toward the center podium, battering my raw nerves.

My vision doubled for half a heartbeat. Beneath my silk cuffs, I dug the edge of the silver bracelets directly into the meat of my wrists, using the burn to stay upright.

Beside Corina, Elder Zena leaned back in her high-backed seat, watching the chaos with detached, sensual fascination.

She looked no older than twenty-eight, ethereal and striking, with copper hair falling past the shoulders of an asymmetric, wine-dark silk gown.

Her violet-grey eyes drifted over the sweat sheen on my collarbone, lingering on the micro-tremor in my hands.

An unfathomable and barely noticeable smile curled her lips.

Down on the far left flank of the dais sat Elder Vane, motionless as a statue.

In his mid-twenties by appearance, with olive skin, close-shaved dark hair, and black gloves covering hands that commanded the Council's deniable wet-work unit, he didn't join the shouting.

His pitch-black eyes merely flicked between Zane's defensive posture and my defiant stance.

"Enough!"

The deep command dropped through the cavernous room, cutting through the noise.

Evren's aura followed an instant later—vast, ancient, and heavy.

The crushing weight of his power flooded the hall, driving the air from lungs and cooling the room.

The gallery fell silent.

Wolves throughout the lower tiers bowed their heads and exposed their throats on instinct, submitting before conscious thought could intervene.

Beside me, Zane shuddered, his teeth grinding audibly as his Alpha-line blood fought the command to yield.

He forced his chin up, neck corded, refusing to bare his throat even as the royal aura pushed hard at his balance.

I didn't bend an inch.

I stood dead-center in the chamber, tilting my chin toward the shadows of the royal box, meeting Evren's metallic gaze with furious defiance.

Evren held my stare for one long second before cutting his eyes to the dais.

"Continue!" He commanded.

At the far end of the bench, Elder Raymond shifted his heavy frame in a navy velvet coat.

Despite appearing barely forty, Raymond had spent nearly three centuries running predatory debt syndicates that bled packs dry.

Darius Vollen owed him a fortune; annexing Shadow Moon's mines would settle Blood Ridge's ledger overnight.

Raymond offered a disarming, practiced smile that failed to reach his amber eyes.

"The Council's weighed every alternative, Sire," Raymond's rich voice dripped with false concern. "The East Coast sits on the brink of an all-out civil war. If Shadow Moon crumbles, the ensuing power vacuum will destabilize resource allocations, and much more. The people look to us for order."

"I'm not going to crumble," my knuckles went white on the wood.

"You won't have the opportunity," Matthias countered smoothly, the predatory hunger breaking through his saintly facade.

"To ensure continental stability, the Council formally invokes the Unity Clause. We're mandating a political union. This marriage will consolidate the territory, secure the borders, and enforce peace upon the eastern factions."

My blood ran cold. "Marriage? To whom?"

Matthias looked toward the balcony. "To the Alpha King. His Majesty, Evren Stormvale, and Alpha Aurora Moonridge shall be wed within thirty days!"

The brief silence that followed was absolute.

Then the room detonated into chaos.