Chapter 015

The laughter across the hall gnawed at me. It was bright, almost shrill, a sound that felt designed to slice through the quiet churn of my thoughts.

Daemon leaned down toward the black-haired she-wolf, his lips close to her ear, and she tilted her head back, smiling wide enough to show every tooth. My jaw clenched before I realized it.

“Your drink, my lady.”

Clara’s voice drew me back. She handed me a glass, the red liquid sloshing just shy of the rim. Wine, rich and thick, smelling faintly of spice and oak. I took it, hoping it might settle the twisting in my stomach.

It didn’t.

My eyes still flicked back to Daemon, no matter how much I told myself to stop. The way his hand rested lazily against the woman’s hip, the careless tilt of his grin, the fact that he wasn’t looking at me anymore, all of it bit deeper than it should have.

I hated that it mattered. I hated that his absence burned almost as much as his presence.

Clara leaned closer, her voice soft enough not to carry. “Ignore him. Wolves like that—they thrive on jealousy. Don’t give him the win.”

I nodded faintly, though the knot in my chest didn’t ease.

Then, a shift in the air. Heavy, deliberate.

I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Rain.”

My name on his tongue was nothing like Daemon’s. Where Daemon’s voice teased and taunted, Darius’s anchored, cutting through the noise like stone against steel.

I turned slowly. He stood a few paces behind me, broad-shouldered in a coat of midnight black, the high collar framing the hard line of his jaw. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes, they pinned me in place, unrelenting, like he could strip away every thought, every defense, until nothing but the truth remained.

“Alpha,” I whispered, though my voice came out thinner than I wanted.

His gaze slid briefly to the glass in my hand, then back to my face. “Careful,” he said, his tone deceptively mild. “Wine dulls the edges. You’ll want them sharp tonight.”

My fingers tightened around the stem. A reminder, not a suggestion.

“Yes,” I murmured.

Clara bowed her head immediately. “Alpha,” she greeted softly, though he barely spared her a glance.

His attention was mine. Only mine. And it was suffocating.

“Walk with me,” he said. Not a request.

Clara hesitated, her hand brushing my arm again as if to ground me, but she knew better than to argue. I set the glass aside and followed him, the weight of a hundred stares tracking every step we took across the hall.

We stopped at the far end, where tall windows opened to a balcony. The doors were thrown wide, letting in the cool night air, laced with pine and distant smoke. The contrast to the hot, crowded hall was sharp, almost a relief.

Almost.

I wrapped my arms lightly around myself, though it did little to shield against the press of Darius’s presence beside me.

“You don’t belong in there.” His voice was low, meant only for me.

I blinked at him. “That which you keep reminding yet I didn’t ask to be here. All you have to do is let me go and I’ll be out of your way”

Something flickered in his gaze, not quite anger, not quite amusement. “No. You seem to forget that there’s no escaping for you from this, And wolves don’t accept weakness.”

“I’m not weak.” Rolling my eyes the words tumbled out before I could stop them, sharper than I intended.

His head tilted, studying me with unnerving calm. Then, slowly, he leaned closer, the shadows of the balcony etching his features into harsher lines.

“No,” he said softly, so soft it cut deeper than a shout. “You’re not. But you let yourself feel like it. And you look like it.” I couldn’t tell if it was disgust or irritation that I heard in his voice but he definitely wasn’t impress

“And that, Rain, is how they’ll break you.”

The air between us thickened, humming with something that felt dangerously like truth. I swallowed, my throat tight, my body burning with the urge to step back and the need to step closer all at once.

Before I could move, he shifted first. A single step closer, his hand brushing, just barely, against my bare shoulder.

The touch was nothing. A ghost. And yet it seared.

“Be ready,” he said, pulling back before I could breathe again. “Tonight isn’t about feasts. It’s about power. Remember that.”

With that, he turned, already walking back into the blaze of the great hall, leaving me on the balcony with my heart hammering against my ribs and my skin still alive where his hand had been.

Clara slipped quietly to my side moments later, her expression carefully blank, though her eyes flickered with worry.

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

I nodded, though the lie felt heavy. My lips parted to say more, but the swell of voices from inside grew louder, the clang of goblets and the rising beat of drums signaling the start of something greater.

The summit had begun in earnest. And I was standing on the edge of it, already tangled in a game I didn’t understand.

The murmur of voices rolled through the grand hall like a tide, the heavy scent of wolves and Lycans mingling with perfumes and wine. I stood where Darius had placed me earlier, near the dais but slightly to the side, a place that made me both visible and exposed. My palms felt clammy against the cool silk of my gown, and I pressed them together tightly to still the tremor in my fingers.

Clara hovered just a step behind me, her presence grounding even if she could not truly shield me from the weight of so many gazes. The gowns of other women glittered like jewels in the lantern light, Alphas’ mates and daughters preened, their smiles razor-sharp. I could feel the subtle measuring in their eyes, the whispered curiosity about me.

For a moment, I locked gazes with them, mocking and laughing. My breath hitched between them, caught like prey in the crossfire. Then, mercifully, a hush rippled through the hall, pulling their attention away.

All eyes turned as Draven mounted the dais.

The eldest brother was a figure carved for command, broad shoulders draped in black, silver embroidery catching the light with each stride. His presence was a storm contained, heavy with expectation and power. Darius and Daemon flanked him, one to each side, creating a picture of unity that was almost too perfect, almost a lie.

The crowd bowed heads, the rustle of fabric and movement echoing until silence claimed the room.

Draven let it stretch, let the silence root itself deep, before he spoke.

“Welcome,” he began, his voice resonant, carrying to every corner. “To those who have traveled from near and far, from strongholds, from territories, from hidden halls, tonight marks more than a gathering. It marks the future.”

He swept the hall with his gaze, a master measuring his pieces.

“For centuries, our kind has been fractured, scattered, ruled not by unity but by old grudges and whispered rivalries. Tonight, we stand at the edge of change. The summit is not simply a tradition, it is a reckoning. And it is time we rise as more than divided packs clawing for scraps. It is time we rise as one.”

A low murmur of assent rippled through the audience, deep and resonant. My skin prickled.

Draven’s eyes, dark and merciless, found mine for the briefest moment. I felt caught, held in the weight of his intent, before his gaze slid past me to the rest of the hall.

“Let tonight begin not with suspicion, but with strength. Not with rivalry, but with resolve. For we are the blood of the moon, and it is ours to claim what the stars promised.”

The words thundered like prophecy, each one laced with something dangerous, something that stirred the beasts in the room. A howl broke from the back of the hall, raw and guttural, and others joined, building until the walls seemed to quake with the sound.

Draven stood unshaken, regal in his stillness, Darius a cold shadow at his right, Daemon grinning at his left as though already plotting the chaos to come.