Jamie's POV
The chamber walls of the High Council Hall swallowed sound, yet the tension echoed louder than any voice.
Every seat was filled. Every eye forward.
Except Maelin's. His chair sat cold and empty, just like his loyalty. He wasn't here because he couldn't be. Not after the news.
His son had taken the Alpha seat of the Rufus Pack.
Declared war on Furstone.
He was by his son's side now, plotting. Scheming. Bastards.
Elder Throne stood at the center of the circular hall, his voice like weathered stone, "Furstone cannot remain leaderless. It is only right that Andrew takes up the mantle… where his father left off."
Murmurs followed. Nods.
Even Laurette's mate—dressed in the noble garb of his pack—gave a single, solemn bow of agreement. Laurette herself glanced at me briefly. Her expression was unreadable… but measured.
She hadn't spoken much since returning. I sensed she was still processing the whirlwind of change—my bond with Andrew included. But if she had an opinion, she was keeping it to herself.
For now.
Elder Throne continued, "The people need direction. Unity. They need to hear from their leaders."
"Isn't it too soon?" a voice cut in.
Oona.
Her tone was sugar-laced, but the chill behind it wasn't missed. "Don't you think it's early to address a pack still in mourning?"
Andrew tensed beside me, but before he could respond, Laurette rose.
Her voice?
A strike of thunder.
"And why shouldn't they?" she challenged. The chamber stilled.
Power radiated from her, not just as Alpha Jackson's daughter, but as a Luna in her own right. There was no mistaking it.
"I only meant—" Oona began, but Laurette cut her off like a blade.
"You meant to suggest their bond is the reason we lost our Alpha." Her eyes narrowed, gleaming with a dangerous clarity.
Gasps whispered around the chamber.
I swallowed hard, caught between disbelief and fury. Did Oona believe that?
Or was this another ploy?
Andrew rose beside me, every inch of him radiating controlled rage—eyes red with suppressed fury. But before he could release it, Laurette's gaze met mine, and with that one Luna-to-Luna look, I understood.
Stand strong. Keep him grounded.
I slid my hand under the table, lacing my fingers with Andrew's. He squeezed back—tight. Tethered.
Laurette's voice dropped, but it hit even harder. "My father didn't die because of a bond. He died because this council failed in its task. There was unrest in the pack, and no one paid attention."
Shock cracked across the room. Some elders looked away. Some flinched.
She stepped forward, towering in presence. "And now you want to place blame on love? On a bond? On them?" Her voice turned sharp. "No. I won't allow it."
Oona stood, pale but proud. "I'm not implying anything. I'm simply voicing what others are whispering—"
"Then silence the whispers," Laurette snapped. "Or own the cowardice of spreading them."
Oona sat, but the heat of her glare didn't fade. And from the corner of my eye, just for a second—I could've sworn I saw her exchange a quick look with Caroline.
A look too sharp. Too... knowing.
Was I imagining it?
Andrew's voice broke through the tension, calm but carved in steel.
"We will address the pack. First the people, then the warriors. But we'll need more than strength alone."
He turned to Laurette, his eyes flicking toward her mate.
Laurette straightened. "My mate and I have already agreed—our pack will stand with Furstone."
Another wave of approval swept through the council.
Laurette added, fire in her voice, "It's time we cleanse ourselves of this vermin. This war? We end it."
Gods, I was beginning to love this woman. She was everything a Luna should be—fierce, loyal, unwavering.
The kind of leader I aspired to become.
But then, Ann's voice cut through, low but commanding.
"Before any battles are fought…" she said, "You two need to be bonded."
My face flushed. Andrew's grip on my hand tightened beneath the table.
The room buzzed at her words, and for once, it wasn't tension—it was hope. A flicker of something good in all this ruin.
Laurette smiled faintly. "A Moon Wedding. When the time is right. But first… we mourn."
The room fell still.
And yet, beneath that quiet, I felt it again.
Oona's stare.
Heavy. Cold. And somehow, not alone.
My eyes shifted—just in time to see Caroline turn away.
Something twisted in my gut.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.
*****
The council chamber had long emptied, yet I remained seated, fingers still entwined with Andrew's beneath the heavy oak table. His hand was warm, steady, but his silence spoke volumes.
"We should rest," I murmured, breaking the quiet.
He nodded once. "Tomorrow, we begin again."
As we stepped into the dimly lit corridor, torchlight casting flickering shadows on the stone walls, I felt the lingering gazes of those who had not spoken during the council meeting. Caroline stood among them, her usual soft smile not quite reaching her eyes tonight.
I made a mental note to watch her closely.
Later That Night – Alpha Wing
In the privacy of the Alpha wing, the scent of smoke and pine clung to Andrew as he shed his council robes. I sat on the edge of the bed, torn between reaching out and giving him space.
"I wanted to tear her throat out," he said quietly, referring to Oona.
I nodded. "She's rattled. Dangerous when cornered."
He turned to me, eyes softening. "But you… You kept me grounded. You held my hand when I nearly lost control. Just like a Luna should."
My heart clenched. "I'm not just your Luna, Andrew. I'm your anchor."
He pulled me into his embrace, and for the first time in days, we breathed together.
Next Morning – Garden of Lunara
Under the pale branches of the Garden Tree, Ann awaited us. Her warrior's calm was evident, but her eyes lit up upon seeing us together.
"I hope you're both ready," she said. "Once we announce the bond and prepare for the Moon Ceremony… things will move fast. War waits for no one."
Laurette arrived moments later, her mate at her side, their unity palpable. She nodded at me. "Furstone needs a Luna who stands tall. And you, Jamie—you stood. My father would have seen that."
I swallowed thickly. "Thank you."
As the others returned inside, I lingered. A breeze stirred, lifting a strange scent from the roots of the Iron Tree—burned sage, ash, and something else.
Crouching, I discovered a small pendant, shaped like a wolf's tooth, etched with the same unknown symbol the rogue had worn.
My pulse quickened.
They'd been here. Watching. Listening. Perhaps even during the funeral.
Clutching the charm tightly, I stood, shadows creeping into my thoughts.
If they could plant something this close to our sacred grounds...
Then the real war hadn't even started.