Leon sat at the head of the war table, fingers drumming against the polished wood, listening to the endless drone of voices circling him like vultures.
“The pack needs a Luna, Alpha,” Elder Marvin said smoothly, swirling the wine in his goblet like he wasn’t trying to steer Leon’s entire future.
Leon didn’t respond, only lifted a brow as the conversation shifted from polite suggestions to thinly veiled demands.
The Elders had been waiting for this moment.
Luke’s wedding to Lilith had sent a clear message—Midnight Crest had solidified their leadership, and Crimson Fang could not afford to remain unstable in comparison.
Leon had seen the glances exchanged at the ceremony, the hushed conversations when they thought he wasn’t listening. He wasn’t a fool. He knew what they all wanted. And more than that, he knew they were right.
Power had to be protected. Strength alone was not enough. Without a Luna, he left himself vulnerable—to challenges, to scheming Elders with daughters they wanted to marry off, to allies who might hesitate in battle because they weren’t sure how long his rule would last.
It was politics. A game he had mastered. And now, it was time to make his move.
“So,” Marvin continued, watching him carefully, “do we have your agreement?”
Leon leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose. He could feel every pair of eyes on him, waiting, expectant. He didn’t have to think about his answer. He had already made his decision.
“Yes.”
A ripple of satisfaction moved through the room.
“Then we will proceed at once,” another Elder said, folding his hands over the table. “Invitations will be sent to all eligible young she-wolves in the region.”
Leon gave a slow nod. “Make sure only the strongest are considered.”
Marvin’s lips curled at the edges, smug and knowing. “Of course, Alpha.”
Leon pushed back from the table, dismissing them with a glance. The moment he was alone, he released a breath and rolled the tension from his shoulders.
A mate. A Luna. A bond that would shape the future of Crimson Fang.
It was the next step. The logical step.
So why did his mind immediately go to her?
To Celine.
To the way she had looked at him after their kiss, eyes burning with something wild, something uncontained, something he wanted to claim as his own.
His hands curled into fists. She wasn’t an option. She wasn’t a contender. And yet—Leon exhaled sharply.
This was the right decision.
It had to be.