The Gathering of Blood

Chapter 5

The Gathering of Blood

 POV: Adelina McKenna

There are moments when you know the ground beneath you is about to shift.

Moments when the silence before the storm hums so loud it fills your chest.

Tonight was one of those moments.

I stood in front of an ornate, double-height mirror in the dressing chamber attached to my room, staring at my reflection like it was a stranger. The gown I’d been instructed to wear shimmered in moonlit blue, stitched with silver along the cuffs, collar, and hem. It was elegant. Regal. Almost… ceremonial.

Which, I supposed, it was.

The Gathering of Blood.

The name sounded dramatic as hell. Like something out of an old prophecy scroll.

But Maren my ever-silent handler had explained it with clinical simplicity when she knocked on my door just an hour ago.

“The Gathering is a Pack Assembly,” she’d said, arms folded behind her back. “All pack members attend. Tonight, as a fated mate candidate, you will be introduced to the council and the Alpha.”

Candidate.

Not “mate.” Not “future Luna.”

Candidate.

Like a job interview.

Like a test I hadn’t studied for.

I stared at my reflection, hating how nervous I looked. My hair was braided down my back, wild curls twisted into elegant coils with silver pins I hadn’t asked for. My lips were painted the color of crushed roses. My skin glowed in the firelight.

I looked like I belonged.

But inside, I was still the girl from Ohio who didn’t know how to walk in heels, who’d spent most of her life dodging eye contact and bills, who didn’t even know what her wolf’s name was yet.

“You ready?” Maren’s voice cut through the door.

No.

“Yes,” I lied.

The walk to the Gathering was long.

Two guards joined us flanking me on either side like I was some dignitary. Or a prisoner.

My heels clicked over stone, echoing through the high-ceilinged corridors. Tapestries fluttered in the breeze. Each one bore the same emblem: a silver crescent moon framed by snarling wolf heads. The deeper we walked into the heart of the Silver Fang estate, the heavier the air became.

Power lived here.

Old, dangerous power.

It pressed down on my skin like invisible chains.

And yet, beneath that weight… something called to me. A distant pulse. A low hum in my blood that pulled me forward with every step.

The bond.

He was near.

I could feel him like heat beneath my ribs.

The Assembly Hall wasn’t a hall at all.

It was a circle an open-air amphitheater carved into the mountain itself. Tall stone columns held up a ceiling of stars. Torches blazed along the outer walls, casting flickering gold across the rows of seated pack members.

And gods… there were so many of them.

Dozens. Maybe hundreds.

All dressed in dark, formal attire. All silent as I was led down the center aisle.

The air was thick with tension. With curiosity. With judgement.

I was the outsider. The girl with rogue blood. The unknown variable.

I didn’t look at them.

I kept my eyes forward, trained on the raised platform at the far end of the circle where seven figures sat behind a long stone table.

The Council.

And just in front of them, flanked by two guards dressed in obsidian armor, stood him.

Daxon Reyes.

My mate.

Seeing him up close for the second time was nothing like the first.

This time, I wasn’t overwhelmed by magic or shock or raw instinct.

This time, I felt everything.

His presence hit me like a tidal wave.

He was tall, yes well over six feet. Built like a soldier, not a CEO. But it wasn’t just his size. It was the way he stood. Every line of his body radiated command. Control. Power. The kind that didn’t need to be spoken.

His suit was dark charcoal, tailored perfectly. No tie. The top button of his shirt undone, exposing a sliver of skin over his throat. His hair was pushed back, thick and dark, and his jaw was sharp enough to cut steel.

But it was his eyes that held me in place.

Storm gray.

Sharp. Wary. Searching.

They locked on mine the second I stepped into the ring and the world shifted on its axis.

Everything around us blurred.

The voices. The torches. The air itself.

There was only him.

And me.

And that pull.

The bond snapped tight between us like a bowstring.

My heart slammed against my ribs. My wolf surged to the surface, snarling and desperate.

Mine, she whispered.

Ours.

I couldn’t breathe.

Neither could he.

He took a step forward.

His nostrils flared. His jaw clenched.

And for one heartbeat just one I thought he was going to say something. A word. A name. Mine.

But he didn’t.

He stopped.

And the moment broke.

“The fated pair bond is confirmed,” one of the councilmen announced, his voice echoing through the amphitheater. “The magic recognizes the match. The decision, however, rests with the Alpha.”

All heads turned to Daxon.

He didn’t look away from me.

Didn’t move.

The silence stretched.

Ten seconds. Twenty.

Then, with a breath so quiet I almost missed it, he turned.

Turned away from me.

And walked up the steps to the Council table.

“Alpha Reyes acknowledges the bond,” the same councilman said, his voice cool. “But reserves judgment until the Claiming Ceremony.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

The Claiming Ceremony?

What the hell did that mean?

I looked at Dax. His face was blank. His posture perfect.

And yet, I saw it.

The storm beneath his skin.

The way his fists curled at his sides.

He felt it too.

The bond.

The pull.

The war.

But he wasn’t ready to name it.

Wasn’t ready to name me.

I was led away without fanfare.

No applause.

No cheers.

Just whispers.

And eyes.

So many eyes.

Back in my room, I collapsed against the door, every nerve still vibrating from

the moment our gazes had locked.

I should’ve been angry.

I should’ve been humiliated.

But all I felt was confusion.

And heat.

And the terrifying certainty that my life would never, ever be the same.