The gravel crunches under their steps before the packhouse. The elders move past Theon without hesitation. At the front, the oldest elder walks with a straight back, one hand resting lightly on his daughter’s arm.Celeste steps precise. Pale cream coat, matching gloves, polished shoes. Hair perfectly in place, smile polite, controlled. Up close, the effort behind it is clear. She is trained, measured, and deliberate. From a distance, she might seem like a visitor. Up close, every motion screams practiced grace.Theon’s office is quiet except for the scratch of his pen. Papers spread across the desk. His fingers tap idly against the wood. The door swings open before anyone knocks. Bernardo steps in. Face tight. Warning enough.“They’re here,” he says.“Who.” The word is clipped.“The oldest elder… and his daughter with the pack members.”Theon freezes. Hand suspended over the desk. Jaw tightens. Then he pushes back the chair and stands. The scrape of legs against the floor is loud in t
The morning air over the packhouse is crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth from last night’s drizzle. The guards at the main gate are used to the occasional early visitor—merchants, hunters, messengers from allied packs—but not this.A cluster of women, no more than a dozen at first, are gathered just outside the iron gates. They are not shouting. They are not brandishing weapons. Yet their presence is deliberate, the way a still body of water can hide a dangerous current beneath.They stand in a loose semicircle, wrapped in long coats against the chill, hair pulled back, eyes fixed on the high double doors of the packhouse. At the center is a tall woman in a wine-colored shawl—wife to one of Theon’s most seasoned warriors. Beside her, another carries a neatly folded paper, the edges already creased from being handled over and over.The guards exchange a glance. One clears his throat. “Can I help you, ladies?”The woman in the shawl steps forward, chin lifted. “We ha
As soon as daylight hits the pack house, there is a subtle knock on the door to Theon’s office. like someone who understands protocol and the power of patience.Theon looks up from the stack of reports on his desk. The light from the high windows paints a pale strip across the floor, catches dust, and the room smells faintly of wood and wet earth. Bernardo stands by the window, arms folded, watching the courtyard like he is reading a map in the ground.“Come in,” Theon says. His voice is even. They have taught the pack to answer the Alpha’s call with ease; they have also taught the Alpha to reply with weight.The door opens. The oldest elder steps inside with a slow, measured tread. He bows at the shoulders, a sign of respect the way lip of the moon stains the rim of a bowl. He keeps his hands folded in front, fingers steepled, and he lets his gaze sweep the room before it settles on Theon.“Alpha,” he says, formal, steady. “I hope the morning finds you well.”Theon inclines his head,
The house is quiet. Too quiet.Lumina shifts under the covers, eyes flicking toward the ceiling as if sound might drip through the boards. The faint creak of wood somewhere outside their room pulls her from the thin edge of sleep. She blinks into the dark, letting her ears adjust, holding her breath so the noise has nothing to fight against. Theon sleeps peacefully beside her.She hears a small faint sound as though the house itself is settling. But it’s sharp enough to lift the hair along her arms.Her gaze moves to the small clock on the table. The hour hand sits stubbornly past midnight, and the second hand ticks too loudly for the silence around her.She pushes the blanket back slowly, careful not to let the mattress complain. Her bare feet touch the floor, and the cool wood sends a quick shiver up her legs. Still, it isn’t the cold that makes her skin prickle — it’s that she’s listening so hard she can almost hear the air moving.Another sound. A faint thud, followed by the famil
"Hold the fuck, Theon," Bernardo says as soon as he steps into his study."Welcome from your trip Beta," "Now's not the time to be like that with me. What is this going around, who let the dogs out?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the chair in the corner of the study."Today is the general council meeting correct? You will hear for yourself." He says, his voice flat."Hey, you know I'll only support what's both good for you and the pack so don't blame me too much after I hear them speak." Theon says nothing, he understands that for a Beta, even though he swore an oath to the Alpha, the purpose is to protect the good of the pack. Soon they walk into the meeting hall that smells faintly of polished wood and the lingering musk of the council elders who arrived before anyone else. Lumina sits on the right side of the long table, her fingers curling loosely around the armrest of the high-backed chair. She can feel every pair of eyes on Theon as he walks in.Bernardo, the Beta, is alrea
The great hall feels colder than usual tonight. Not because of the weather, the hearth is lit, flames licking at the logs, but because every pair of eyes in the room is fixed on one man. Theon stands at the center of the polished stone floor, shoulders squared, chin slightly lifted, as if bracing for a blow he refuses to duck.The elders sit in a crescent along the raised platform, their chairs carved with the pack’s crest. Some lean forward, elbows on knees, others sit back with arms folded. They are older wolves, weathered by decades of leadership and politics. They’ve seen wars, alliances, betrayals — and they’ve learned to wield words as weapons.The oldest elder clears his throat first, the sound scraping through the silence. “We’ve avoided this conversation long enough,” he says, voice steady but edged. “The curse must be addressed.”Theon’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing. His Lycan stirs, a quiet rumble in the back of his mind, not yet demanding to surface but unwilling to b