Page 23

As dawn breaks over Silvercreek, I nurse a pounding headache.

I've been awake for hours already, reports spread across my desk in organized chaos.

Sleep has cemented itself as a distant memory these past few days, its place taken by the constant low-grade burn of anxiety and something else I refuse to name.

My coffee has gone cold, forgotten somewhere between reviewing border patrol logs and staring blankly at the wall. The scratches from the last raid across my ribs are nearly healed now, pink lines rather than angry welts, but the memory of their wrongness lingers like a bad taste.

A knock interrupts my brooding.

"Enter," I call, straightening in my chair as Thomas walks in, more reports clutched in his steady hands.

"Morning," he says, taking in my appearance with a quick, assessing glance. "You look like hell."

"Thanks." I reach for the papers he's holding. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Luna passed her Trial yesterday," he says, though we both know I'm already aware of this. I was there, watching from the shadows as she presented her twelve tokens to Victoria, her face glowing with quiet triumph. “It was good to see her building connections.”

I grunt noncommittally, shuffling the papers without really seeing them.

"She got a token from Melissa," Thomas continues, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Now that I didn't expect."

This catches my attention. "Melissa? You're sure?"

"That’s what people are saying.” He leans against the edge of my desk. "Rumor has it Luna patched her up after an accident. Must have been some impressive first aid to thaw the ice queen."

My wolf stirs at this, pleased by the evidence of Luna's healing abilities, her value to the pack. I suppress the feeling immediately.

"The final Trial is in five days," I say instead, changing the subject. "We need to focus on security, get this over with. The Gods know we’ve got more trouble on the horizon.” Trouble I certainly don’t want interfering with Luna’s final trial.

I want her as far from ‘trouble’ in all its forms as possible.

Thomas nods, accepting my deflection. "I'll double the patrol rotations."

As he outlines his security plans, I catch myself drifting again, loosed in thoughts of her like a man adrift upon the ocean. It's maddening, like a word on the tip of my tongue that refuses to materialize.

"Nic?" Thomas is staring at me expectantly.

"Fine," I say, hoping it's an appropriate response to whatever he just suggested. "Make it happen."

He gives me a strange look but doesn't press. As he leaves, I drag a hand down my face, cursing under my breath. I need to get it together. The pack deserves better than a distracted Alpha.

Especially now, with shadows gathering at our borders, stronger each day.

Hours later, the dining hall thrums with conversation during the community dinner, pack members gathered around long wooden tables laden with food. From my position at the head table, I have a clear view of Luna, sitting beside Ruby near the middle of the room.

She's smiling at something Ruby said, her red hair falling in waves around her shoulders. The sight knocks something loose in my chest, a memory of her laughing in sunlight at Shadow Creek, before everything went to hell. Before I chose the pack over her.

"...don't you think, Alpha?" Elder Roberts' voice cuts through my distraction.

"Sorry," I mutter, dragging my attention back to the conversation. "Could you repeat that?"

Roberts frowns, clearly annoyed at having to restate his opinion on increasing the trainee patrol rotations. I force myself to focus, to respond with the authority expected of my position, but my awareness of Luna's presence never fully fades.

Across the room, Theo Blackwood, a distant cousin, approaches Luna's table. My muscles tense as he sits across from her, saying something that makes her smile. My wolf growls, a low rumble of possessiveness I barely manage to suppress.

"Dominic," Victoria's sharp tone pulls me back. "Your attention, please."

I tear my gaze away, shame and frustration burning in equal measure. My behavior is unworthy of an Alpha, especially with threats mounting on all sides.

I make it through dinner somehow, responding to questions about border security and pack defenses on autopilot while my instincts track Luna's movements throughout the room. When she finally leaves, slipping out a side door with Ruby, I exhale deeply, not realizing I'd been holding my breath.

"You're not fooling anyone," James murmurs beside me, low enough that only I can hear.

I glare at him. "Mind your own business."

***

"The Riverpaw Alpha agrees to a mutual defense pact, though we have to figure out the specifics of an agreement that benefits us all," I tell Thomas the next morning, hanging up the satellite phone. "That makes three packs now."

"Good," he nods, making a note. "We'll need all the allies we can get if—"

He stops mid-sentence, his gaze shifting to something over my shoulder. I turn to see what caught his attention, and my body goes still.

Luna walks by the window, deep in conversation with Elder Victoria. The morning light catches in her hair, turning the edges to fire. My wolf surges forward with such force that I have to grip the edge of my desk.

"Nic?" Thomas's voice seems to come from a great distance.

"What?" I snap, tearing my eyes away from the window.

His expression is carefully neutral. "I asked when you want to meet with the patrol leaders."

"After lunch," I manage, struggling to remember what we were discussing. "Two o'clock."

When Thomas leaves, I press the heels of my hands against my eyes until I see stars. This cannot continue. I am the Alpha of Silvercreek. My focus must be on protection, on leadership, not on the curve of Luna Morgan's lips or the mystery of her changing scent.

Later, I encounter her in the hallway outside the library, her arms full of old texts. We both freeze, caught in an unexpected moment of privacy.

"Alpha," she acknowledges, her voice carefully neutral.

"Luna." Her name feels like forbidden fruit on my tongue. "Research for the final trial?"

She nods, adjusting her grip on the books. "Among other things."

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words. A thousand questions crowd my mind—about her changed scent, about what happened at Shadow Creek, about why she seems both more guarded and more powerful since her return.

Instead, I step aside to let her pass. "Don't stay up too late."

Something flashes in her eyes—annoyance, perhaps, or disappointment. "Careful, Alpha. That almost sounded like concern."

Before I can respond, she continues down the hall, leaving me with the lingering scent of lavender, sage, and that maddening something else.

***

"The eastern perimeter shows increased activity," James reports days later, pointing to marks on the map spread across my desk. "Similar to what we saw before the raid, but more dispersed. Tracks, scents. They’re lingering as close as they can to our border without triggering our patrolling wolves to pursue.”

I nod, studying the pattern. "They're testing for weaknesses."

"Or trying to draw our attention while they plan something else." He rubs the back of his neck, a habit he's had since childhood. "We need more eyes out there."

"Agreed. Rotate in some of the recently graduated trainees. Pair them with experienced fighters."

James makes a note, then hesitates. "Have you noticed anything... different about Luna lately?"

My head snaps up, pulse quickening. "Different, how?"

He shrugs, trying for casual and failing. "Her magic seems stronger. More volatile. And she's been tired, distracted."

"The trials are demanding," I say carefully, unwilling to admit I've noticed the same changes. "It's probably stress."

"Probably," he agrees, but doesn't sound convinced.

Neither am I, if I'm honest. But acknowledging the changes in Luna means confronting questions I'm not ready to answer. Questions about why my wolf becomes more insistent each day, pacing restlessly beneath my skin, urging me to claim what it sees as ours.

Hours later, the Council chamber fills with pack leadership for the weekly meeting—Elders, security heads, community leaders all taking their places around the large oak table.

Luna sits between a scowling Melissa and Ruby (who I’m certain snuck in, but I’m unwilling to kick out), looking composed despite the sidelong glances thrown her way.

Her status remains ambiguous—not yet officially pack leadership, but required to attend as the chosen mate candidate.

"Border reports first," I begin, nodding to James, who summarizes the increased activity we've been tracking.

The meeting progresses efficiently through routine matters—supply inventories, training schedules, preparations for the upcoming full moon. It's only when Victoria raises the topic of magical practices within pack territory that the atmosphere shifts.

"In light of recent events," Victoria says, her voice carrying the weight of her years, "I believe we should review the Ancient Laws regarding magical practices."

A murmur runs through the room.

Victoria unfurls a scroll of yellowed parchment. "Law 27 states: 'The practice of willful magic is forbidden within the heart of pack territory, save by those of pure blood who are granted specific dispensation by the Alpha and Council.'"

I watch Luna's expression carefully, noting how her shoulders tense slightly.

"This law," Victoria continues, "was established after the Great Divide, when mistrust between shifters and witches ran high. Its purpose was to prevent corruption and ensure pack safety."

Elder Roberts nods approvingly. "Wise precautions that have served us well for generations."

"Perhaps," Victoria concedes, "but times change, and so must we. I propose we consider amending this restriction to allow controlled magical practice within our borders, particularly for defensive purposes."