Page 4

Instead, I force myself to sit back at my desk, picking up another report.

The Alpha ring catches the light, reminding me of my duties.

I have a pack to protect, threats to handle, a lottery to oversee.

I can't afford to be distracted by copper hair and curves and the memory of how perfectly Luna fit against me that last night, when I still thought I could have both her and my birthright.

My wolf disagrees. He's never accepted my decision to let her go, never stopped seeing her as ours. Having her back in our territory, even temporarily, is making him impossible to control. Every instinct screams to go to her, to make things right.

But the hindbrain always submits to the human mind eventually, when you have responsibilities as tremendous as mine.

And I’ve always known the weight of it—of the destiny I didn’t have a choice in.

I knew it then, and I know it now. And nothing quite went to plan, especially when the Elders proposed this lottery, but I’d do anything to protect this pack’s stability. Anything at all.

Another knock interrupts my spiral. Sarah, one of our youngest enforcers, enters with a tablet in hand. "Alpha, the Council is requesting an update on the lottery security arrangements. And the caterers need approval for the ceremonial feast menu."

I resist the urge to groan. Even our most sacred traditions now come with paperwork. "Walk me through it."

For the next hour, I lose myself in details—guest lists, security rotations, dietary restrictions.

Sarah is efficient and thorough, which reminds me why I promoted her despite some grumbling about her age.

She doesn't mention Luna's name when we discuss the candidate accommodations, but I notice her careful avoidance.

"Is that everything?" I ask when we finally finish.

Sarah hesitates. "Almost. There's been some... talk. About the lottery candidates. Some of the older families are concerned about... certain participants."

My wolf bristles at the implied criticism. "The lottery choices are sacred. The Council's decision is final. It’s an enshrined tradition—all eligible must participate.”

"Of course, Alpha." She makes a note, then adds carefully, "It's just... when people leave, well... Some pack members worry about the implications."

"They can take their implications to the Council." My tone makes her flinch slightly. "Is that all?"

"Yes, Alpha. Thank you." She hurries out, leaving me with a fresh surge of irritation. Not at her—she's just the messenger—but at the endless politics, the whispers, the way some things never change despite my best efforts to modernize the pack.

A howl echoes from the forest, pulling me from my thoughts. Not an alarm, but a warning. Something's moving in our territory that shouldn't be. I rise, shrugging off my suit jacket and loosening my tie. Finally, something I know how to handle.

"Alpha?" One of our younger enforcers, appears in my doorway, breathing hard. "We found something at the north border. You need to see this."

I grab my jacket, already feeling my wolf rise closer to the surface. "Show me."

It never ends. My work is never over, I despair to myself. This life has a hold on me that it won’t release. I’ll be working until the day I die.

As I follow him out, I can't help but glance at the guest house one more time.

Luna's scent still hangs in the air, mixing with the crisp autumn breeze.

Is she alone in there? Cornered by closed-minded pack members, old enemies, bullies from our schoolyard days?

My wolf whines at the thought of her having to protect herself against the very cruelty that made her leave.

Later, I promise him, knowing it's probably a lie. Some mistakes can't be fixed, no matter how much we wish they could.

The forest calls, offering the simple clarity of action over the complexity of emotions. I answer gladly, leaving behind the office and, the paperwork, and the endless weight of responsibility. Leaving behind copper hair and lavender scent and all the words I never said.

I have a pack to protect. Everything else has to wait.

But as I stride through the pack house, I catch fragments of conversation, all centered around one topic:

"Did you see who's back?"

"The Morgan girl—yeah, James Morgan’s little sister..."

"Can't believe they included her in the lottery..."

"The Alpha can't possibly..."

My wolf growls, wanting to silence every whisper, every doubt.

Instead, I straighten my shoulders and keep walking.

Let them talk. Let them worry. The lottery will choose my fate—our fate—and even I don't have the power to change that.

Luna means less than nothing in the face of the sheer weight of responsibility, history, and tradition.

Cool autumn air hits my face as I exit the building, carrying with it a thousand scents—pine needles, fallen leaves, pack members, the faint magic of our boundaries. And underneath it all, that thread of scent and spellwork I've never quite managed to forget.

Welcome home, Luna Morgan. Gods help us all.