Page 24

The chamber erupts in overlapping voices, opinions flying like arrows. I raise a hand for silence, which gradually falls.

"This is a significant departure from tradition," I observe neutrally. "We should consider all implications carefully."

"If I may," Luna's voice cuts through the tension, clear and steady. All heads turn toward her, surprise evident on many faces. It's unusual for someone in her position to speak without being directly addressed.

I hesitate, then nod. "Proceed."

She stands, meeting my gaze briefly before addressing the room. "The law as written specifically targets 'willful magic'—meaning intentional spellcraft. But magic itself is not just spells and rituals. For those born with magical heritage, it's an innate part of who we are."

A few Council members shift uncomfortably, but no one interrupts.

"The Cheslem raiders use corrupted magic against us," she continues. "Wouldn't it make sense to counter that with pure magic? The kind that flows naturally from the earth and those connected to it?"

Elder Roberts scoffs. "Are you suggesting we invite witches into our territory? Make ourselves vulnerable to outside influences?"

"I'm suggesting," Luna responds calmly, "that you already have magic within your borders. You have me. You have others with mixed heritage who've suppressed their abilities out of fear of breaking this outdated law."

The room falls silent, her words landing with the weight of truth many have avoided acknowledging.

"Magic isn't inherently corrupting," she presses. "The Cheslem Pack didn't become what they are because they used magic—they became corrupted because they pursued power at any cost."

I find myself nodding slightly before I catch the movement and stop. As Alpha, I need to remain neutral until a consensus is reached, but her logic is sound. More than sound—it's compelling.

Victoria smiles faintly. I narrow my eyes at her.

Elder Roberts and several others begin arguing against any change, citing tradition and risk. Others, particularly younger Council members, voice cautious support for Luna's perspective. The debate grows heated, splintering into multiple conversations.

I let it continue for several minutes, observing the divisions and alliances forming, before calling for order.

"This is clearly a matter that requires further reflection," I announce. "Each Council member should consider the arguments presented today. We'll revisit this topic at our next meeting, after the final trial is complete."

It's a diplomatic postponement, and everyone knows it. But with tensions running high and the final trial approaching, now isn't the time for sweeping changes to pack law.

As the meeting disperses, I notice Luna slipping away, her expression tight with frustration. Without a conscious decision, I follow her.

She's halfway down the empty corridor when I catch up to her.

"Luna."

She turns, arms crossed defensively across her chest. "Alpha."

"That was quite a speech."

"Was it inappropriate?" Her chin lifts in challenge. "To speak the truth?"

"It was unexpected," I clarify, keeping my voice neutral despite the way my pulse quickens at her proximity. "But not unwelcome."

This catches her off guard. "You agree with me?"

I choose my words carefully. "I don’t disagree. I think it’s brave, at least. Bold. Some might call it brash.”

"Brash?" Her eyes flash dangerously. "The Cheslem Pack is at your borders using corrupted magic, and you're worried about me appearing impulsive?"

"That’s not what I said. I'm worried about maintaining pack unity when we need it most," I counter, stepping closer. "Half the Council would revolt if we abolished that law overnight."

"So you prioritize their comfort over your pack’s safety?"

Your pack. Your pack. My wolf snarls. Not ‘our pack.’ I push through the discomfort, the roaring of my instincts. "I prioritize finding solutions that don't create new problems."

We've moved closer with each exchange, the space between us shrinking until I can detect every nuance of her scent—the familiar lavender and sage now underlaid with something richer, warmer, more vital. My wolf surges forward, recognizing something my human mind still can't identify.

Luna's breath catches as she seems to realize our proximity. Her eyes drop briefly to my lips before returning to meet my gaze, a flash of heat that can't be disguised.

"Your argument has merit," I say, my voice dropping lower. "But your approach needs work."

"My approach?" She doesn't step back, though her hands have uncrossed, falling to her sides. "What would you suggest, Alpha?"

The title sounds different now, almost intimate in the empty corridor. I'm acutely aware of every inch between us, of the slight acceleration in her heartbeat, audible to my enhanced senses.

"Talk to me," I murmur. "If you want things to change, ask me.”

"You expect me to trust you?”

"No," I admit, the honesty surprising us both. "But I've learned from my mistakes."

Something shifts in her expression—a softening, or perhaps just surprise at my candor. For a moment, I think she might say more, might bridge this final distance between us.

Instead, she takes a deliberate step back, breaking whatever spell had momentarily ensnared us.

"I should go," she says, voice carefully controlled. "Ruby's waiting for me."

I nod, ignoring the protest of my wolf. "Of course."

She turns to leave, but pauses. "Your pack needs every advantage, Nic. Including magic. Don't let old prejudices blind you to that reality."

Then she's gone, the echo of her footsteps fading down the corridor, leaving me with the ghost of her scent and the frustrating sense of an opportunity missed.

I lean against the wall, exhaling slowly, trying to regain my composure. My wolf paces restlessly, dissatisfied with the outcome, pushing against my control with growing insistence each time I encounter her.

"Alpha!" Thomas's voice shatters the moment. I straighten immediately, recognizing the urgency in his tone before he rounds the corner.

His face confirms my instinct—something is wrong.

"What happened?" I demand.

"Message from the Matthews Pack, out west," he says grimly. "They were attacked last night. Heavy casualties."

My blood runs cold. The Matthews Pack is—was—one of our strongest allies, their territory adjacent to our eastern border.

"Survivors?"

"Some. They've retreated to their secondary den." Thomas hesitates. "Nic, they're saying the attackers used some kind of magic. It matches what we’ve seen.”

The Cheslem pack. The corrupted magic we'd encountered at the border, now deployed in full force against our allies. The Matthews Pack is smaller than ours, but not by much.

"Send aid—medical supplies, fighters, whatever they need." My mind races through implications, strategy adjustments, defensive possibilities. "And get James, tell him what’s going on. We need to strengthen our eastern perimeter immediately."

Thomas nods, already turning to carry out my orders.

"And Thomas?"

He pauses.

"Find Luna. She needs to know about this."

He gives me a questioning look but doesn't comment on the instruction. As he leaves, I stare down the now-empty corridor where Luna disappeared, acutely aware that the time for caution and tradition may have just run out.

The Matthews Pack fell in a single night.

We might be next.