Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Luna and the Wolf of Doom

“You kept me waiting, Luna Elara.”

His voice rolls through the room like thunder beneath glass.

I stop at the door. He sits there — relaxed, as if the world itself had paused to listen. Alpha Doom.

I’ve seen his name on lists, heard it whispered in war meetings years ago — the Alpha whose wolves never retreat, whose pack buries their dead standing. They say he doesn’t need allies. That he devours them.

Now he’s in front of me.

“I didn’t ask you to wait,” I say, stepping closer. My voice sounds steadier than I feel.

“True.” His lips curve faintly. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”

“Not anymore.”

His eyes — gray, cold as a blade — watch me as though he’s reading through every word I don’t say. “Sit.”

I hesitate a heartbeat, then take the chair across from him. The table between us gleams like still water, reflecting his face and mine — two storms studying their reflection.

He leans back, folding his hands. “I hear alphas are fighting to stand beside you. I thought I’d better not miss the chance.”

I let out a dry laugh. “You? Afraid of missing out?”

He shrugs. “Not afraid. Curious.”

“Curiosity gets wolves killed.”

“And silence gets them forgotten.”

He says it so smoothly that I almost forget to breathe. The man speaks like a challenge. Like every word is a test I can fail.

“So,” I say, tilting my head, “what do you really want, Alpha Doom?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He studies me, eyes moving like they’re tracing the ghosts of my scars. “Everyone says you built Silvercrest,” he finally says. “That Kael wore the Alpha crown, but you held the kingdom together. I like people who build things.”

“And I like people who don’t waste my time,” I reply softly. “So let’s skip the stories. You don’t reach out unless you need something.”

That earns me a flicker of amusement. “Sharp,” he murmurs. “You’re right. I want your mind.”

“My mind?”

“Your strategy. Your diplomacy. I’ve conquered packs, but I’ve never ruled them well. They follow out of fear, not loyalty. You…” He pauses. “You make people believe.”

I stay silent. His words crawl under my skin because I know they’re true. That was my gift. My curse.

He continues, “I want an alliance. Temporary. You help me stabilize the North. In return, I give you what you need — protection, territory, time.”

I lean back, crossing my legs. “Time for what?”

“To rebuild.”

The word sits heavy between us.

When I don’t answer, he leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “You’ll have your own lands to start over, free from Kael’s shadow. But there’s a condition.”

“There always is.”

“When the time comes,” he says, “I’ll call on you once. For anything. And you won’t refuse.”

Mira, standing near the door, gasps softly. “Elara, that’s—”

I hold up a hand. “It’s fine.”

“Elara—”

“I said it’s fine.”

Doom studies me again, unreadable. “You agreed fast.”

“I don’t have the luxury to think long,” I tell him. “I can rebuild a pack from ashes, but ashes can’t defend me while I do it. I need land, soldiers, legitimacy. You have those. I don’t.”

He nods slowly. “So this is a business deal to you.”

“No,” I say quietly. “It’s survival.”

A silence follows, thick as smoke. The rain outside drums harder against the windows.

Finally, he stands. “Then it’s settled.”

I rise too. “Not yet. You still haven’t told me why me. You don’t trust anyone, Alpha Doom. So why this?”

He steps closer. I can smell the rain on him, the faint iron of blood — not fresh, but remembered.

“Because,” he says, voice lower now, “you didn’t destroy Silvercrest when you left. You could’ve burned it, taken your revenge, dragged Kael’s name through the mud. But you didn’t. That kind of restraint means you’re dangerous in ways I respect.”

He’s too close. I can see the small scar under his jaw, pale against his skin. I don’t move. Neither does he.

“Do you always talk like that to potential partners?” I ask, trying to keep my tone steady.

He smiles, just a hint. “Only to the ones I can’t read.”

“I’m not a puzzle, Alpha Doom.”

“No,” he murmurs. “You’re a warning.”

The tension stretches so thin I can almost hear it hum. I finally step back. “I’ll work with you,” I say. “But make no mistake — I’m not yours. This alliance ends the moment my pack stands.”

“Of course.” His grin is slow, knowing. “You’ll find I don’t like keeping things that want to run.”

He extends his hand. I hesitate for half a breath, then take it. His skin is warm, rough. The handshake is firm — not dominance, not submission. Equal force.

“Welcome to the North, Luna Elara,” he says. “You’ll find it colder than Silvercrest.”

“I don’t mind the cold,” I whisper. “It keeps me awake.”

He releases my hand, but his eyes linger. “Kael will come for you. Not because he loves you — but because he’s afraid of what you’ll become.”

“Then let him come,” I say, turning toward the door. “Fear makes people foolish.”

---

Back in the hotel room, Mira can’t stop pacing. “You really trust him?” she asks.

“No,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But I trust his ambition. That’s easier to predict than kindness.”

She sighs. “He’s known for wiping out whole packs when they cross him.”

“Then I’ll make sure we never cross.”

Mira opens her mouth, closes it again. She looks at me like she’s seeing someone she doesn’t quite recognize. “You’re different,” she whispers.

“I learned.”

“Learned what?”

“That loyalty is only beautiful when it’s returned.”

Outside, thunder rolls, soft at first, then louder, until it feels like the sky itself is cracking open.

I walk to the window. The city glows in pale light — wet streets, endless headlights, a horizon swallowed by mist. Somewhere out there lies the North, the territory I’ll claim under Doom’s name until I can carve my own.

A new beginning. A quiet rebellion.

I rest my hand on the glass, feeling the vibration of the storm.

Kael’s words echo faintly in my mind — *You’ll come back.*

No.

This time, I won’t.

I whisper into the night, “Let them celebrate their lies. I’ll build something real.”

Behind me, Mira mutters, “What if Doom turns on us?”

I turn, a small smile on my lips. “Then I’ll make him wish he hadn’t.”

Outside, lightning splits the sky — bright and sharp, like a promise written in fire.

The storm has begun.