Page 184 of Moonlit Fate

A thick, suffocating silence cloaked the room. The clock on the wall ticked louder with each second, echoing in the tense air.

“I’d be more comfortable if Ilaric were here.”

“That will not be necessary,” Corin interjected quickly. “We have enough of a majority without him.”

My stomach dropped. No Ilaric? They’d already decided, then.

“You are no longer the alpha of the Silver Claw pack,” Miren stated flatly.

Those words, like daggers, cut through every layer of defense I had built around myself. My heart hammered against my ribs,each beat a silent scream. Anger boiled up within me, licking at the edges of my control.

Disbelief was too tame a word for what I felt. Betrayal? It was more than that. It was as if the very ground beneath my feet had given way. Thank fuck I was sitting. I didn’t want to give these men the satisfaction of watching me fall. I wanted to lash out, to let the storm inside me rage and show them the fury of a leader scorned.

“On what grounds?”

I searched their faces, looking for an ally, a crack in their united front. I was met with unyielding barriers, their expressions locked in icy determination. They’d made their decision without me, casting aside loyalty and tradition as easily as shedding a second skin.

The elders’ mouths moved, spewing out reasons, but the words jumbled together in my mind. I caught fragments only: “Tradition...”

“Stability...”

“Complexities…”

“Tradition dictates a leader’s focus must remain undivided,” Miren continued flatly, as if reading from an ancient script that cared nothing for individuals.

“Stability is paramount.” Branan nodded emphatically. “The pack cannot be led by an alpha with divided intentions.” His tone left no room for argument or doubt.

“Your situation presents complications,” Corin chimed in, almost but not quite apologetically.

Their accusations stung, each one a calculated strike designed to justify their decision. I wanted to argue, to fight back with the ferocity of my untamed spirit, but the shock pinned me down, leaving me defenseless against the onslaught of their so-called justifications.

“Isn’t overcoming challenges part of an alpha’s duty?”

They exchanged looks, a silent conversation happening right in front of me.

“An alpha must be free of distractions to serve the pack effectively,” Miren replied, though his words sounded rehearsed, hollow. “It is decided. Aria, you are no longer the alpha of the Silver Claw pack.”

Their explanations continued, a litany of cold logic and colder tradition, but the words faded into a dull buzz in my ears. All I heard was the sound of my world crumbling around me, brick by brick, dream by dream.

Something heavy shifted in my chest, a sense of loss so profound it threatened to sweep me away. I felt like screaming, demanding they see sense, but the energy required for such defiance eluded me.

“Decided without me,” I muttered, the bitterness seeping through.

“Decided for the good of all,” they responded in unison, a chorus meant to drown out any dissent.

Miren raised a hand as if to silence any further protest, but I sat there, speechless and completely taken aback. “Please refrain from arguing. It will only bring disgrace upon yourself and dishonor your father’s legacy. The decision is final.”

I looked at them, really looked at them, and saw what I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge before. Fear. They were terrified of what I represented, the change I could bring. Fear had led them to strip me of my birthright.

The three men stood, their movement synchronized and final. Chairs scraped back against the floor as they left without another word. I didn’t stand. I didn’t speak. The door clicked shut behind them, a definitive punctuation to their verdict.

Alone, I stared at the empty seats where the elders had just pronounced my fate. The clock on the wall ticked on, indifferent to the earthquake that had just shattered my reality. My fingerstraced the grain of the wood table, feeling every ridge and groove, grounding myself to something tangible.

“Tradition,” I whispered to the emptiness, mocking the justifications they’d given. A bitter laugh escaped me. “Stability.” It was ludicrous.

My eyes moved to the crescent moon birthmark visible just above the neckline of my shirt, the mark of destiny that now felt like a cruel joke. Destiny? More like a curse.

“Unburdened by complexities,” I muttered under my breath. What did they know of burdens? Of the weight I carried for the pack, for our future?

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