Chapter 60: The Dark Wolf

The gathering should have been like any other.

Ceremonial fires burned along the ridge above the den, their smoke curling up into the navy twilight. Wolves moved like shadows between them—some in human skin, others half-shifted with twitching ears and low, wary eyes. It was meant to be a celebration of the season's turn. A reaffirming of pack unity.

But I knew what it really was.

A stage.

And I was the sacrificial act.

I held Talon close against my chest as I walked the winding trail toward the upper ridge. His tiny body was swaddled tightly, head tucked beneath my chin. Alis flanked me in silence, her shoulders stiff, jaw tight.

None of the others greeted me as I passed.

Eyes turned away.

Some out of pity.

Some out of fear.

And some—too many—because they’d already made their choice.

The scent of pine and smoke thickened as we neared the central altar—a wide, low stone ringed by fire pits and carved with the names of alphas past. Kael’s name should’ve been there. It wasn’t.

And still, I felt him. In every breath. Every heartbeat. Every step that brought me closer to the fire he no longer stood before.

The crowd was already gathered.

Coren stood at the altar’s edge, draped in dark ceremonial robes. His golden-brown hair had been slicked back, his expression a mask of composed humility. But I could feel it under the surface. The hunger. The certainty. The performance rehearsed down to the blink.

Bran stood beside him, along with Senna and the rest of the council. A few wolves from the lower ranks lined the outer ring. Most of them I didn’t know. None of them looked at me.

Only one pair of eyes found mine—Maen’s.

But he didn’t nod.

Didn’t speak.

Just looked.

And then looked away.

Coward.

“Luna Lyra,” Coren said, lifting his voice as I approached. “We thank you for joining us tonight.”

The formality grated.

I held Talon tighter. “Let’s not pretend I had a choice.”

A murmur moved through the crowd.

Coren’s smile didn’t falter. “This gathering was called to speak of the future. Of stability. Of unity. But before we look ahead, we must name the darkness that lingers behind.”

My pulse spiked.

I knew what was coming.

Coren turned to the crowd, arms outstretched. “The rogue attack that claimed our Alpha’s life was no accident. It was not random. It was the result of weakness in our borders. Weakness in our leadership. And—” his eyes swept back to me, sharp and gleaming “—weakness in the bloodline.”

Silence.

Then, a few nods. Muted. But real.

My breath caught.

“I stood beside Kael until the end,” I said clearly. “I fought at his side. I burned his body with my own hands. Don’t speak of him like he was weak.”

Coren tilted his head. “I speak not of Kael. I speak of what came after.”

He began to pace slowly, deliberately. “There are whispers—fears—that the bloodline of our Alpha has been corrupted. That the dark wolf Kael claimed to have suppressed… was not as dormant as he believed.”

My heart stopped.

No.

He wouldn’t—

Coren turned sharply. “The child she bore, they say, carries the mark of that darkness. That Kael’s line has passed it on. That we are breeding the storm that will destroy us.”

Talon whimpered in my arms.

I stepped forward, voice shaking with fury. “He is Kael’s son. That is all you need to know.”

Bran stepped up beside Coren. “And yet you never told us his name. You kept his birth hidden. You refused the healer’s report.”

“I protected my son from a den that would rather see him buried than born.”

A gasp from somewhere in the crowd.

Senna spoke, low but firm. “This is not the way. Accusations without proof—”

“There is proof,” Coren snapped. “The mark. His eyes. The scent of rogue magic on the wind the night Kael died.”

He turned to face the pack. “She brought the darkness here. Whether she meant to or not. Her wolf has always been… unstable. Aggressive. Feral.”

“And yours is nothing but a whisper behind others’ power,” I growled.

Gasps again.

Coren’s voice rang out, loud and final. “For the safety of Nightfall, the council convened in emergency session this morning. And by unanimous vote, we hereby strip Lyra of the Luna title she once held.”

The world tilted.

I stood frozen.

Talon didn’t cry. He was too quiet. Too still.

My throat worked, but no sound came.

“You can’t,” I managed, hoarse. “You don’t have the right.”

“The council holds the right in absence of the Alpha,” Bran said. “And the Alpha is gone.”

The flames crackled.

And my silence stretched too long.

Because no one spoke.

No one.

Not Senna.

Not Maen.

Not even Alis.

The pack turned their eyes to the fire.

Away from me.

Like they already believed it.

Like I’d become the shadow Coren claimed I was.

A sickness.

A curse.

Unworthy of the mark I once wore.

I felt Talon stir again—just a little.

And in that moment, I knew.

They’d already decided.

Whatever came next… I would not win it here.

So I did the only thing I could.

I turned.

And I walked away.

Not fast.

Not broken.

But with Talon tucked beneath my chin, and every step a vow.

They’d taken my title.

But they hadn’t taken my blood.

And they hadn’t taken my fire.

Not yet.