Josie
I couldn’t believe the way these people were moving—slow, deliberate, like they thought every step toward carried the weight of law. It was almost laughable... almost. If it didn’t make my blood boil.
Every word they threw at felt like it had been sharpened long before they even stepped into this room—carefully honed little blades, just waiting for the right mont to slice into my skin and see how deep they could cut.
At so point, the intrusive thought crept in, sudden and reckless—I should just tell them I’m pregnant. The urge to spit it out was sharp, an arrow poised on the string, and I knew it would shut them up in an instant. Their faces would pale, their carefully arranged arrogance cracking under the truth.
But I shoved it back down where it belonged. No. That wasn’t a card they got to see, not now, not like this. My child wasn’t a weapon. My child wasn’t ammunition for political gas. And I refused to let them drag sothing pure into their ss.
"You don’t have the right to co here and speak to like this," I said, my voice steady, laced with steel I didn’t bother to hide. "If you have sothing to say, you can say it to Kiel directly. He’s the Alpha—not ."
One of the elders, a man whose face looked like it had been carved from old bark and left out in the sun too long, waved a hand at as though batting away a fly. "No," he said, his tone that false, syrupy calm people use when they’re already convinced they’re right. "This is sothing that should be discussed without him. You need to keep him out of this."
That was it. The last thread of my patience snapped.
"Why should I?" I shot back, the words rising hotter than I intended. "Why should I keep him out when this involves him just as much as it involves ? Or do you think I’m just going to be cornered into whatever twisted little plan you’ve cooked up because you caught alone?"
The oldest man in the group—white hair combed so neatly it looked brittle—took a step forward. His eyes had that irritating gleam of soone convinced he knew better, like I was a child who just didn’t understand how the ga was played.
"This," he said, slow and deliberate as if talking to soone dim-witted, "is a way for you to prove your loyalty to the pack. It will make it easier for peace to co to the land. There’s no need for you to act up—especially when you’re wearing n’s clothes."
For a mont, I simply stared at him, the insult hanging in the air like smoke. Then a laugh bubbled up from my chest—sharp, cold, cutting through the tension like glass shattering.
"If my outfit offends you," I said, each word crisp enough to draw blood, "you can get out. Right now. In fact, I insist you do." My gaze swept over them, daring any of them to argue. "I’m not going to let Michelle into this pack for any reason—she is not Kiel’s mate. And I am ashad... ashad... that after everything we’ve discussed, after everything we’ve been through, you’re still standing here supporting soone who is nothing but a threat to us all."
Their eyes flickered—sothing quick, almost imperceptible. Not sha, of course. That would’ve required more self-awareness than these n had ever possessed. No, it was more like irritation at being challenged by soone they still thought of as beneath them.
Another elder stepped forward, his voice slick with false civility, the kind of tone you could almost slip on if you weren’t careful. "You speak like you’re the Luna," he said, "but you haven’t done anything to make yourself one. You’re just warming the Alpha’s bed." His gaze slid down my body, slow and deliberate, before climbing back up. He didn’t even try to hide the way his eyes lingered on the trousers I wore, his lip curling in distaste. "And frankly, an Alpha wouldn’t take a bedmate seriously if she dresses like a man. But whatever."
My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms until it hurt. The sting kept from saying sothing I might not take back.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he thought it might make his words carry more weight. "Understand this—this ss only involves Kiel. The others are not part of it. Don’t be selfish. Don’t make it worse."
I tilted my head slowly, letting a bitter smile curve across my lips. "Is insulting supposed to be your thod of persuasion? Because if so..." I let my gaze lock on his, cold and unwavering. "I have bad news for you—it’s not working."
The air in the room shifted, tense and heavy, as though everyone was holding their breath. My voice dropped to a low, dangerous calm. "If you can’t understand my answer, then get out. I’ll handle this myself. And when the ti cos, you’ll regret siding with a liar who manipulates her way into an Alpha’s graces."
Movent in my periphery caught my attention, and I turned.
Kiel was standing there.
My heart stuttered hard against my ribs. His presence was magnetic in a way that always knocked off balance—but this ti, the air around him was charged, dangerous. His jaw was tight, his eyes sharp, his body radiating controlled fury. Every muscle in him looked coiled, ready to strike.
And gods, I wished he hadn’t heard what they’d just said about .
All at once, I beca painfully aware of my appearance—the loose shirt, the fitted trousers, the slightly ssy hair from the morning wind. I hated that I suddenly cared, hated that their words had word their way into my head enough to make feel self-conscious.
Kiel stepped forward, his voice low, the growl beneath it unmistakable. "Is this how you speak to your future Luna?"
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. The elders shifted uncomfortably, muttering half-ford excuses that didn’t even make sense to themselves. Not one of them dared to et his gaze.
"Out," Kiel said, his voice calm but laced with a quiet lethality. "Now."
They hesitated—just long enough to be stupid—before finally shuffling toward the door, each step reluctant, heavy.
When the door shut behind them, the room felt different. Quieter, but not calr. The only sound was the steady, asured pace of Kiel’s breathing.
He was still furious. I could feel it radiating off him in waves, simring beneath the surface.
I watched him, torn between my own frustration and a reluctant sort of awe. He could be so angry—truly, viscerally angry—and still manage to keep that rage focused, directed with precision.
"I’m sorry," he said at last, his voice softer now, though the tension still threaded through it. "I’m sorry you had to go through that. All those insults... all because of . Because of one mistake I made." His eyes locked on mine, the sincerity there almost disarming. "But I promise you—I’ll make sure everyone steps in line."
He kept talking, spilling promises and reassurances, but my mind was already spiraling elsewhere. The words barely landed.
I moved toward him, cutting across whatever he’d been about to say. "Do you find attractive suddenly?"
His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. "What?"
"You heard ," I said, refusing to break eye contact.
He searched my face like he was trying to decode so secret ssage. "Is this about Michelle?"
I shrugged lightly, though my heart was hamring so hard I was sure he could hear it. "Just answer the question."
His lips curved faintly, a mix of amusent and sothing warr—sothing real. "I love kissing you," he said simply, no hesitation. "That’s finding you attractive in my book."
Heat curled low in my stomach, but I masked it with a small, challenging smile.
"Prove it," I said.
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