All Chapters of The Wolf's Call (Book 1): Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

I stand perfectly still as Beatrice hums softly, her expert fingers fastening the last, tiny decorative pin into the elaborate twist of my hair. Leila adjusts the deep, plunging neckline of my gown one final time, smoothing the heavy silk fabric. Naomi holds up a gilt-edged mirror, her own reflection smiling faintly back at me, a genuine look of awe in her eyes.“You look absolutely stunning, Luna,” Naomi whispers, though her voice trembles slightly with unconcealed nerves. “The King will be here any minute now.”“The Lycan King,” Leila corrects her automatically under her breath, a sharp reminder of the strict hierarchy. “Don’t forget the title, Naomi. This is serious.”Beatrice sighs softly, stepping back to admire her work. “It’s been years since he last set foot here. Not since Alpha Ezekiel took over. They used to be so close—best friends, even. King Kael was always here.”I arch a brow, catching the thread of old drama. “Used to be? What happened? Did they have a falling out o

The last time I stood in this very room, I almost got myself banished from the Silver Lake Pack for using my very annoying mouth to tell the council of elders that they didn't get to tell me what to do.Now, though, the air feels… entirely different. He’s here.The Lycan King, Kael, himself.And because of the sheer, overwhelming power radiating from the Lycan royalty, the dozen assembled elders are trying so hard to look composed and stoic that it’s almost funny. They’re suddenly all dignity and profound wisdom, sitting stiffly on their benches, when I know half of them can barely agree on what color the sky is or whether the new accounting software is a threat to the pack’s ancient traditions.I sit beside Roman, doing my best not to squirm under the cloying, heavy scent of ceremonial incense and the dozens of expectant eyes watching my every breath. Across the long, massive oak council table, Zeke sits in his usual Alpha seat—his broad shoulders tense, his jaw tight enough to cra

The voices are back. They’re never truly gone, but right now, they’re silent whispering, insidious and cold, like the sound of water dripping onto stone in a vast, dark cave.Failure.Weak.Kill yourself and take half the world with you.You deserve the end.I clutch the steering wheel of my jeep, grinding my teeth against the sound, the pressure building behind my eyes. I can feel the faint glow beneath my skin, the seals humming like they have a mind of their own, straining against the chaos in my mind.“Oh, no, you don’t,” I mutter, slamming on the brakes and pulling off the dirt road. The jeep shudders to a stop in a small, sheltered valley.I throw the door open and stride into the damp morning air. The valley is filled with tall grass and wild patches of colour. A ridiculous idea pops into my head, a desperate attempt to silence the demons with sheer absurdity.I clear my throat, take a deep breath, and belt out the most ridiculously upbeat, ultimately nonsensical pop song I ca

“Again!” Kael’s voice booms, cutting cleanly across the vast training field like the snap of a banner in a gale.I groan, the sound pathetic and utterly defeated, and drag myself to my feet, wiping a thick stripe of sweat and dirt off my forehead with the back of my arm. My legs feel like they’ve been replaced by warm jelly, my arms like lead weights, and my pride? Dead, crushed, and thoroughly buried somewhere beneath the dirt I’ve been eating for the past hour of relentless, brutal sparring.Kael stands opposite me, completely, infuriatingly unruffled. Not a single drop of sweat glistens on his skin, and not a single strand of his molten-gold hair is out of place. His dark, fitted training shirt clings to his perfect body, but not because he’s exerted himself—it clings because the bastard looks like he was sculpted out of sheer, unyielding arrogance.I charge. I know I should be thinking, but instinct takes over, fueled by pure frustration. I aim a clumsy high kick. He sidesteps

Zeke’s voice is calm but firm as he speaks quietly with the chief enforcer, delivering the first piece of controlled, false intelligence for our trap, yet my attention drifts elsewhere entirely. My eyes, now sensitized by the training and the sudden awakening, follow the subtle, involuntary movements in the room—the rapid flick of a nervous wrist, the unconscious twitch of a mouth, the minute, hidden shift in energy and aura as the enforcers receive their orders. Erica stands a few feet away, meticulously pretending to be sorting through a stack of irrelevant duty rosters, but her ears are clearly perked, her attention quietly, desperately tethered to every single one of Zeke’s low words. She reacts before her trained mind realizes she’s reacting—her eyes flinch, her shoulders tense, and her breathing deepens ever so slightly each time Zeke mentions a strategic location or a name she shouldn’t be focusing on. "You see that, don’t you?" Isla hums softly inside my mind, her voice