2: Good News

Fern

My father’s office smells like wood polish and old men, but I refrain from wrinkling my nose when I step inside. 

I am guided in without ceremony, the heavy door closing behind me with a finality that makes my spine stiffen. Every chair is filled. Elders line the curved table, their expressions carefully neutral, their gazes sharp with interest that has nothing to do with concern.

All of them are looking at me.

I stop just inside the threshold, hands folded in front of me the way the Omegas taught me. I remain still, quiet, and unthreatening. I feel suddenly too aware of my plain dress, my scrubbed hands, the way I don’t belong in this room except as a topic.  I quickly fold my hands into my apron, as if that will hide the callouses and the fact that I don’t fit in. 

Alpha Leo stands at the head of the table. My father. The Alpha. His posture is relaxed and confident, like this is just another morning of rulings and strategy. Luna Iris sits to his right, pale and distant, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles have gone white.

Grace is not here.  She was never meant to be.  This meeting isn’t about her.  It is about me.

“Fern,” Leo says, his voice carrying easily. “Come closer.”

I take three steps forward and stop where he gestures. I am standing in the center of the room, completely exposed to the eyes of the council.  They all study me like I am a specimen, like I am in need of inspection. 

“She is lovely,” one of the elders says as he cocks his head to the side.  “I do think she will work in our favor.” 

The scar on my thigh throbs beneath my skirt, a low, pulsing ache that wasn’t there an hour ago. I ignore it. Pain has never been a good enough reason to disobey.

Another of the elders clears his throat. “We have good news.”

The words sound wrong coming from his lips.  I think he meant for them to sound cheerful, but they don’t. 

Still, I don’t respond. No one expects me to anyway.  Instead, I keep my eyes glued to the ground in front of me and my lips pressed together.

“The pack’s future has been secured,” another elder continues. “Through careful negotiation and sacrifice.”

Sacrifice. The word is spoken carefully, like it is meant to mean something to me. 

It doesn’t.

Leo nods once. “We have found you a suitable mate.”

The room tilts.

I hold myself still through practice alone. Years of obedience anchor me in place even as fear slides coldly down my spine. A mate. The word feels unreal. Distant. I am unbonded. Wolfless. Forgotten. Mates are for daughters like Grace.

Not for me.

“Who?” I ask, before I can stop myself.

It’s the first time I’ve spoken in this chamber. The sound of my voice echoes faintly, bouncing off the stone walls. 

A few elders exchange looks. One of them almost smiles.

“Alpha Gaven of Blackmoor.”

The name causes bile to rise in my throat.  I may be nothing more than an Omega, but I know that name.  Everyone does.

My breath catches, and I am aware that it sounds too sharp and humiliating. Blackmoor is not just another pack, it is the pack. The largest on the continent. The most feared. Their borders stretch farther than any other, their warriors legendary, their Alpha is ruthless beyond reason.

Stories about Gaven are whispered, but never spoken aloud.  He is cruel.  He is merciless, even to his family.

He killed his own father when the old Alpha refused to relinquish control. No challenge. No ceremony. Just blood on stone and a new reign carved out by force. They say he didn’t hesitate. That he didn’t mourn. That he ruled with fear because fear is effective.

My fingers curl tighter together gripping the hem of my apron in a desperate attempt to stop them from shaking.

“I don’t have a wolf,” I say quietly. The words feel fragile in my mouth. “I can’t sense a bond.”

“That won’t be an issue,” Leo replies smoothly. “The contract has been agreed upon.”

Contract.  There isn’t a bond between us.  This isn’t a matter of fate given by the Moon Goddess.  This is an agreement.

“He commands the largest pack on the continent,” an elder adds, as if that is meant to reassure me. “This alliance ensures peace for generations.”

Peace. Bought with me.

The scar on my thigh burns suddenly, sharply, as if reacting to the word itself. I suck in a breath and shift my weight, hoping no one notices.

“I’m not suited to be a Luna,” I say. It’s not a protest. Just a fact. “I’ve never been trained.”

There is a pause. Not because they’re reconsidering, but because the answer is obvious.

“You will not be required to fulfill Luna duties,” Alpha Leo says. “Your presence alone is sufficient.”

Presence.

I understand then. Perfectly. I am not meant to rule beside Alpha Gaven. I am not meant to lead or be cherished or even acknowledged.

I am a seal on a treaty.  A body exchanged for borders.  I am meant to be a breeder that provides him with an heir.  Nothing more, nothing less.

My gaze drifts to my mother, but she is looking down at her hands. When she finally looks at me then, something like sorrow flickering across her face. Her lips part, as if she might speak.  Like she might express some sort of regret for how I have been treated for the past nineteen years, but she doesn’t.

“Preparations will begin immediately,” Alpha Leo continues. “You will depart within the week.”

Within the week.  Just like that, my life has packed, traded, and erased.

I lower my head in the Omega bow I’ve used my entire life. Not because I accept this. But because refusal has never once saved me.

“Yes, Alpha,” I say.

The council nods, satisfied with my response.

The decision is made.

As I turn to leave, my leg flares with heat so intense it nearly steals my breath. I stumble, just slightly, and catch myself on the edge of the table.

No one moves to help me.  No one asks if I’m well.  Why would they?  I am no longer their problem.

I straighten, step back, and walk out of the chamber on steady legs that feel like they belong to someone else.

Behind me, the door closes, and somewhere far beyond our borders, a ruthless Alpha waits for a contracted mate that isn’t worth his time.