Leon sat in the cold council chamber. Shadows flickered along the stone walls as the fire snapped in the hearth. The elders sat in a crescent before him, their faces carved from granite, eyes sharp, patient—like they were waiting for prey to step into a trap.
“It’s time for you to choose a Luna,” Elder Marvin said, his voice calm, rehearsed. But the steel beneath it was unmistakable. “The pack needs a future.”
Leon didn’t answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes unreadable. The silence stretched.
“And if I don’t?” he asked finally, voice quiet, dangerous.
Marvin’s smile was thin. “Then the council will choose for you.”
The words struck like a slap. The other elders gave small nods of agreement, their lined faces betraying nothing but the cold certainty of tradition. This wasn’t a suggestion. It was an ultimatum dressed in diplomacy.
“You’re overstepping,” Leon said, jaw tight.
“We’re safeguarding the pack,” Elder Yvonne replied gently, folding her hands in her lap. “This is not personal, Alpha.”
It was always personal. They didn’t want a Luna. They wanted a puppet queen. They wanted Sasha.
She was the obvious choice—pristine bloodline, trained in etiquette, loyal to their ideals. The kind of Luna who would smile through council banquets and whisper deference behind closed doors. A symbol, not a leader.
They thought they could control her. They thought he would obey.
Leon’s fingers curled into fists. He should have expected this. Should have seen it coming.
It wasn’t their demand that unsettled him. He had expected pressure. He had expected the talk of legacy and duty, of alliances and tradition. What caught him off guard was what surfaced when they said the word Luna.
He didn’t see Sasha.
He saw Celine.
The image rushed into his mind with startling clarity. Her white hair clung to her neck, damp with sweat from training. Her silver eyes met his without flinching, steady and unafraid. There was no softness in her expression, no carefully chosen words. She didn’t try to be agreeable. She didn’t try to be anything she wasn’t. That was what made it impossible to look away.
She stood in defiance of everything they claimed a Luna should be. She was untamed, unpolished, and, by every traditional measure, unfit. But when he thought of the future, when he thought of what it would mean to lead beside someone—he saw her.
She made him feel like the world was burning and somehow worth standing in the flames.
His hand tensed at his side, fingers flexing once before he forced them still.
She was real. That was what mattered. Not her title. Not the bloodline. Not the expectation that had been passed down through centuries. She was his equal in ways no one else had ever come close to being.
But she couldn’t shift.
That fact landed like stone in his chest. Heavy. Unavoidable. Not spoken aloud in the room, but present in every glance, every pause. The Luna of Crimson Fang was more than a partner. She was a symbol. She was meant to stand beneath the full moon, to lead the pack in her other form, to carry the bond of Alpha and wolf in every part of her.
Celine couldn’t give them that. Not now. Maybe not ever.
The legs of his chair scraped loudly as he stood. The sound pulled every eye toward him. The conversation stopped mid-sentence. No one moved. The weight of the silence hung thick in the air.
Leon looked at no one.
“I’ll make my decision soon,” he said. His voice was calm, but it cut through the quiet like frost on glass.
Without another word, he turned and walked out. The door slammed behind him, echoing like the end of something.
He didn’t look back.
Because if he did—if he let himself hesitate, even for a second—he might choose what he wanted.
And doom them all.