Page 185 of Moonlit Fate

“No distractions,” I muttered. They were wrong. It wasn’t a distraction. It was vision. A vision they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see.

A cold shroud wrapped around my shoulders. For a fleeting moment, I had been the alpha, the heart of the Silver Claw pack. Now what was I?

My pack was no longer my family. Everything had slipped through my fingers like water. I could control it, yet there I was, powerless.

The title had been my identity, my pride. Without it, who was Aria of the Silver Claw? Just Aria, with her rare luminescent silver eyes and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Just Aria, who loved too fiercely and acted too rashly.

Alone. That was the truth of it. The pack had turned its back on me, but I couldn’t turn my back on myself. I pushed back my chair and stood. Alone or not, I would face whatever came next. Because if there was one thing about me that hadn’t changed, it was my stubbornness. Perhaps that was enough.

45

ATTICUS

Rain drummed against the roof of the assembly hall like a bad omen. I stood at the front, my boots planted firmly on the wooden floor that reeked of old blood. The Crimson Fang pack murmured around me, their attention flitting my way before darting away just as quick. They were uneasy, and who could blame them? Their alpha had called an impromptu meeting, and now here I was—the rogue wolf, the outcast, standing where no one would have expected me to be.

I scanned the crowd, searching for any sign of empathy or alliance. None looked at me once they realized they had my attention. My father was a leech, sucking the life out of everything he touched, claiming victories he had never earned.

Through our bond, I could almost hear Aria’s heart beating with the falling of the rain, her emotions explosive and wild. Every cell in my body ached for her, needing her calm in this confusion.

The double doors at the back of the room crashed open and silence fell like a guillotine. Caius strode in, his presence overwhelming the space. With a sharp, calculating gaze, he stared over his pack members with an air of ownership. Thecrowd parted for him as if he were Moses and they the Red Sea. Larkin slunk in his shadow, sallow and gaunt. The bastard looked like death warmed over, but his expression held the same disdain for me as usual.

“Tonight marks the beginning,” Caius boomed. “A new era for the Crimson Fang.”

Larkin glanced my way again, lip curling slightly. I stood my ground, feeling every eye on me, every whisper about me. I was the ripple disrupting their still water, and they were too afraid to voice their questions.

“Atticus,” Caius said, nodding in my direction without an ounce of warmth. There was power in that name—myname—rolling off his tongue. It was a shackle, heavy and unyielding. Larkin’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t challenge his alpha. He knew better.

“An era of strength,” Caius continued. “And unity.”

Caius lifted his hand and pointed at me. I moved from the shadows, each step deliberate, the physical force of their stares pressing against my skin. The whispers started before I even reached the center of the room.

“Atticus will be my right hand,” Caius declared.

Shock hit their faces first, followed by a ripple of confusion that spread through the hall. Fear wasn’t far behind, a living entity that hummed with life, feeding off the collective pulse of the pack. They were trying to piece together the puzzle of me, an exile now standing among them, not as an outcast, but as one of them.

No one spoke up, no one dared. Caius had set the stage and his word was law. Their silence came from terror, not respect. I could see it in their faces, feel it in the shift of their bodies. They were on edge, ready to run or fight, but trapped by their alpha’s command.

“His strength has proven him loyal,” Caius continued as he stared at me. “He has earned his place.”

Those words were meant for them, but they ensnared me too. This role was a badge, a mark of loyalty to a man whose brutality I knew all too well. The pack may have accepted this decision out of fear, but there was more at play. This was a game of survival, and I had just become a key player.

The whispers died down. The hall was still, a sort of calm before the tempest. I stood there, feeling every eye on me.

“Why him?” Kieran stepped out from the crowd, his posture trying to hide the tremble that undercut his defiance.

Every head turned. Kieran stood alone, eyes locked with Caius, waiting for an answer. Or a punishment.

Caius didn’t speak. He slowly raised his hand, fingers curling into a silent command that held more power than any words. Everyone gathered collectively held their breath, waiting for lightning to strike.

Kieran’s knees buckled. His body jerked like an invisible wrecking ball had slammed into him. His gasp was cut short, eyes bulging in terror and surprise. Then, he hit the ground with a thud that echoed through the hall. No one moved to help.

Silence clawed its way deeper into every corner of the room. Caius stood, hand still raised. I couldn’t look away from the body. This was the cost of questioning Caius, of daring to raise your voice.

“Let this be a lesson,” Caius said quietly. “Disobedience is a luxury you cannot afford.”

No growls. No whispers. Just the sound of rain hammering against the roof, mocking us with the freedom it had to fall where it wished.

I glanced at Larkin, now paler than the corpse at our feet. He caught my eye, something dark passing between us. We were all prey here, some just closer to the jaws than others.

---