Chapter 154: Damien's POV

The heirs' common room hasn't changed since we were first-years.

Same worn leather couches. Same scratched wooden table. Same view of the training grounds through tall windows.

It's been our sanctuary for years, a place where titles don't matter and we're just four wolves who grew up together.

Tonight, we need that more than ever.

I arrive to find Jaxon already sprawled on a couch, a bottle of whiskey in hand. Lucien is at the window, staring out at the starlit grounds, and Cassian sits alone at the table, his blue eyes distant.

"About time," Jaxon says, tossing me the bottle. "Thought you'd abandoned us for your mate."

"Never," I say, catching it and taking a swig. The whiskey burns, and it's exactly what I need. "Riley's with Harper and Vivienne. Girl time, apparently. Which means we get this."

I gesture around the room, and Lucien manages a small smile.

"Like old times," he says. "Except we're not sneaking liquor anymore. We're drinking to forget we just fought a war."

"Speak for yourself," Jaxon says. "I'm drinking to celebrate not dying. Big difference."

The humor is forced, but we're trying, because after everything, the battle, the betrayal, the losses, we need something normal.

I settle onto the couch across from Cassian. He hasn't moved. Hasn't spoken. Just sits there, staring at nothing.

Through pack bonds, I feel his grief like a physical weight.

"Cass," I say quietly. "Talk to us."

"What's there to say?" Cassian's voice is hollow. "My grandfather was a traitor. I helped imprison him. He's going to die in a cell, hating me for choosing Silverwood over him."

"You chose right over wrong," Lucien corrects, abandoning the window to join us. "There's a difference."

"Doesn't make it easier," Cassian says.

Jaxon leans forward, his golden brown eyes serious. "My grandfather fought beside yours for forty years.

They were friends. Battle brothers, and when Elder Bran found out what Selwyn did, you know what he said?"

Cassian looks up, waiting.

"He said, 'Some wolves spend their whole lives building honor, then throw it all away in one act of cowardice.'

That's what your grandfather did, Cass. He built a legacy, then destroyed it himself. That's on him. Not you."

"But I should have seen it," Cassian insists. "Should have noticed something. The late-night meetings. The strange questions about Council discussions. I was too close to see what was right in front of me."

"We all missed it," I say firmly. "I'm the heir. I should have caught the conspiracy before it got that far. Should have protected the students who were kidnapped. Should have…"

"Should have doesn't change what happened," Lucien interrupts. "We can torture ourselves with what we should have done, or we can accept that we did our best with the information we had."

He pours whiskey into four glasses, distributing them.

"To doing our best," he says, raising his glass. "Even when our best isn't perfect. Even when it hurts like hell. Even when it costs us people we love."

We drink in silence, the whiskey burning away words we can't say.

"I keep thinking about what he said," Cassian admits after a moment. "About me being weak. About choosing sentiment over strength. What if he was right? What if mercy was the wrong choice?"

"It wasn't," I say immediately. "Killing him would have been easy. Satisfying, even. But you chose something harder, making him face consequences.

Making him live with what he did. That takes more strength than any blade."

"Riley said something similar," Cassian says, managing a weak smile. "About mercy being the difference between us and them."

"She's smart," Jaxon says. "For an outsider."

The teasing tone makes Cassian's smile strengthen slightly.

"She is," he agrees. "And she proved it on the battlefield. Did you see her strip away Seraphine's illusions? I've never seen Luna power used that way."

"Or the shield," Lucien adds. "Protecting hundreds of people while being crushed by the weight of it. That was..." He trails off, searching for words. "That was Luna power at its finest."

Through the mate bond, I feel Riley's presence like a warm glow. She's laughing about something with Harper and Vivienne. Safe. Happy. Exactly where she should be.

"I'm going to complete the mating bond," I announce. "Official ceremony. Official marks. Everything."

"Finally," Jaxon says. "Your mother has been planning it since. Fair warning, it's going to be elaborate."

"I know," I say. "But Riley deserves elaborate. Deserves the pack seeing her as Luna in every official way."

"When?" Lucien asks.

"Three days. Gives the pack time to recover, wounds to heal, and my mother time to finish her preparations."

"Three days," Cassian repeats, and I see something shift in his expression. Purpose, maybe. Or determination.

"Then we have work to do. Security. Guest lists. Making sure no Purist sympathizers try anything during the ceremony."

It's the most engaged he's sounded all night, and I see what he's doing. Burying grief in work. In purpose. In being useful.

I should probably discourage it. Suggest he take time to process, but I know Cassian. Work is how he heals.

"Security first," I agree. "Then we can discuss whether Jaxon is allowed to give a speech."

"I'm great at speeches," Jaxon protests.

"You're terrible at speeches," Lucien corrects. "Remember the graduation ceremony? You made three people cry."

"They were tears of joy!"

"They were tears of 'please stop talking,'" Cassian says, and there's actual humor in his voice.

We fall into familiar banter, passing the whiskey bottle, trading insults that feel like comfort. For a while, we're not the heir and his council.

Not warriors who just survived a war. Just four wolves who've known each other since childhood.

"Do you remember," Lucien says eventually, "when we were twelve and Jaxon convinced us to sneak into the Elders' meeting?"

"I didn't convince anyone," Jaxon protests. "You all volunteered."

"Because you said there would be 'secrets and intrigue,'" I remind him. "Instead, we listened to two hours of budget discussions."

"Elder Selwyn was particularly boring that day," Cassian says, then freezes, realizing what he said.

The mood shifts. Heavy again.

"He wasn't always a traitor," I say carefully. "He served Silverwood faithfully for decades. Taught you everything you know. Loved you, in his way. The fact that he made terrible choices at the end doesn't erase the good he did before."

"Doesn't excuse it either," Cassian says.

"No," I agree. "But it makes it complicated. People aren't all good or all bad. They're just... people. Making choices. Sometimes the right ones. Sometimes catastrophically wrong ones."

Through pack bonds, I feel Cassian processing that. Trying to reconcile the grandfather who raised him with the traitor who betrayed everything.

It won't be easy. Might never be resolved, but at least he's not alone in it.

"I'm glad you're all here," Cassian says quietly. "I don't know how I'd get through this without you."

"You won't have to find out," Jaxon says firmly. "We're pack. We're brothers, and we face everything together."

"Even Damien's elaborate mating ceremony," Lucien adds with a grin.

"Especially that," I say. "Because if I have to suffer through my mother's event planning, you're all suffering with me."

The laughter that follows is genuine, and through pack bonds I feel the healing beginning. Not complete. Not easy, but starting.

We spend the rest of the night like that. Drinking. Talking. Remembering better times and planning for the future.

Being exactly what we've always been, brothers in everything but blood, and when I finally leave, heading back to where Riley waits, I feel grateful.

For the heirs who stand beside me.

For the mate who chose me.

For the pack that's becoming something better.

Tomorrow, I'll meet with my family. The day after, final preparations for the ceremony, and in three days, Riley becomes my Luna officially.

But tonight, I had this, and it was enough.