Chapter 56 CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
ALORA
The assembly hall buzzes with energy as Alex and I enter together. It's been two days since I healed the seven warriors, and the atmosphere in the pack has shifted. I can feel it, curiosity replacing fear, hope replacing doubt.
Alex's hand rests at the small of my back, a casual touch that sends warmth through the bond. His wolf is calmer than I've felt it in weeks. The possessive edge is still there, but it's different now. Tempered by trust.
"Ready?" he murmurs as we approach the raised platform.
"Ready."
Elder Margaret calls the assembly to order, and hundreds of pack members fall silent. I can see Sarah in the crowd, her eyes red-rimmed but watching me with something that might be forgiveness.
"Pack of Silver Creek," Alex begins, his voice carrying through the hall. "Two days ago, you witnessed something unprecedented. Your Luna used her blood-wolf abilities to save seven warriors from certain death."
Murmurs ripple through the crowd, some approving, others uncertain.
"For weeks, I've been operating under the same misconceptions that plagued our ancestors," Alex continues. "I believed blood-wolves needed to be protected. Kept safe. Hidden away from danger." His eyes find mine. "I was wrong."
The admission sends shock through the assembly. Alphas don't admit mistakes easily.
"We've discovered the chronicles of Sera Mitchell, a blood-wolf who lived two hundred years ago." He holds up the red leather journal. "She documented the truth that was lost—blood-wolves aren't a weakness. They're a strength. But only when they're allowed to be partners, not prisoners."
I step forward, and the crowd's attention shifts to me. I can feel their fear, their uncertainty. Time to change that.
I let my power rise, not hiding it this time. My eyes shift to crimson, and a faint glow emanates from my skin. Several wolves gasp.
"I am Alora Stone, your Luna, and I am a blood-wolf," I say, my voice steady. "I was raised to hide what I am. To fear my own power. To believe I was a curse." I look at Alex. "But I'm not. And it's time you all understood what that means."
"The Luna saved my life," a voice calls from the crowd. One of the warriors I healed steps forward. "I was dying from silver poisoning. The doctors had given up. She healed me in minutes."
"And me," another warrior says, standing. "I can fight again because of her."
One by one, the seven warriors I saved stand, creating a wave of support through the crowd.
Then the doors at the back of the hall burst open.
A wolf I've never seen before strides in, flanked by two guards who look bewildered. He's tall, muscular, with auburn hair and eyes that flash crimson as they lock onto me.
Another blood-wolf.
The assembly erupts in chaos. Through the bond, I feel Alex's immediate rage, his wolf surging forward with possessive fury.
"Stop," the stranger says, his voice carrying Alpha authority despite not being this pack's leader. "I mean no threat."
"Then explain why you've barged into my territory uninvited," Alex snarls, moving in front of me protectively.
"Because I felt her." The stranger's crimson eyes stay fixed on me. "Two days ago, a blood-wolf came into full power. The shift ripples through our kind, we can sense each other when we stop hiding." He takes a step forward. "I'm Daemon Cross. And I've been searching for another blood-wolf for fifty years."
"Fifty years?" I breathe. "How old are you?"
"Seventy-three. Blood-wolves age slowly when we use our power correctly." His gaze rakes over me, assessing. "You're young. Newly awakened. And bonded to an Alpha." Something flashes in his eyes. "That's... unfortunate."
Alex's growl reverberates through the hall. "Watch your next words carefully."
"I'm not here to challenge your bond," Daemon says, though his tone suggests otherwise. "I'm here to teach her. To help her understand what she truly is." He looks at me again. "You've barely scratched the surface of your abilities, little wolf. The healing is just the beginning."
Through the bond, I feel Alex's struggle. His wolf wants to tear this male apart for even looking at me. But his human side recognizes we might need this information.
"The chronicles," I say, trying to defuse the tension. "Sera Mitchell's journal. It says—"
"Sera Mitchell was my grandmother." Daemon's voice softens slightly. "I have her other journals. The ones that detail advanced blood-wolf abilities. Combat techniques. How to heal during battle without exhausting yourself." He pauses. "And how to break toxic mate bonds."
The last words hang like a bomb.
Alex moves faster than I can track, his hand around Daemon's throat, slamming him against the nearest pillar. "Say that again."
"Alex, stop—" I start.
"No." His eyes are pure silver now, the berserker rage threatening to surface. "He comes into my territory, looks at my mate like she's his, and suggests breaking our bond?"
"I said toxic bonds," Daemon gasps, not fighting back. "Bonds where the Alpha can't control his possessive instincts. Where isolation has already begun." His crimson eyes meet mine over Alex's shoulder. "Tell me, Luna Alora. Has he forbidden you from using your powers? Kept you from helping your pack? Made you feel weak and purposeless?"
"That was before—" I say.
"Before what? Before you defied him and healed anyway?" Daemon's smile is knowing. "And how long before he tries to lock you away again? Before the next threat makes him revert to his protective instincts?"
"I won't—" Alex starts.
"You already have." Daemon's voice is calm despite the hand crushing his throat. "You issued an Alpha command forbidding her from healing. You've isolated her from pack duties. You've treated her as something to protect rather than someone to fight beside." He looks at me again. "The bond is poisoning you both. I can see it. Feel it. And if something doesn't change, you'll both descend into the madness that claimed every other Alpha-blood-wolf pairing."
"We found Sera's journals," Elder Margaret says, stepping forward. "We're already implementing her guidance—"
"Sera's early journals, maybe." Daemon's expression is grim. "But she wrote more later. After my grandfather died. After she spent thirty years observing other blood-wolf pairings and understanding what went wrong." He looks at Alex. "Your bond can be saved. But not if you keep treating her like glass instead of steel."
Alex's hand doesn't move from Daemon's throat. Through the bond, I feel his war—rage at this male's presence, fear that he might be right, and underneath it all, the desperate need to protect me from any threat.
Including, apparently, helpful information.
"Let him go," I say quietly, using my Luna authority.
"Alora—"
"Let. Him. Go." I push power into my voice. "If he has information that could help us, we need to hear it."
For a long moment, Alex doesn't move. Then, slowly, his hand drops.