Chapter 70 Upheaval
The autumn rain hammered against the windows of White Moon Pack's main house as I stood in Mason's office, studying the intelligence reports spread across his desk. Six months had passed since Stella's disappearance, six months of relative peace that I'd known couldn't last. Now, looking at the surveillance photos before me, I understood why my instincts had been screaming warnings for the past week.
"She's been busy," Mason said, his voice tight with controlled anger as he pointed to one image after another. "Derek Chen from the Northern Alliance, Marcus Volkov from the Russian packs, even Helena Reeves from the Council's old guard. Every enemy we've made in the last eighteen years."
"Twenty-three confirmed affiliates so far," Thomas reported from his position by the door. "And those are just the ones we've been able to identify. Our intelligence suggests she's been recruiting for months, promising them everything from territory to revenge."
I picked up a photo of Stella herself, taken just three days ago at a private airfield two hundred miles north. She looked different—harder, leaner, her eyes holding a coldness that hadn't been there before. The woman who'd once claimed to love Mason had been replaced by something far more dangerous.
"What does she want?" Roman asked, though we all knew the answer.
"Everything," I said quietly. "She wants Mason, she wants White Moon Pack's power, and she wants me dead." I touched another photo, this one showing Rory leaving her university campus. "And she knows the best way to get all three is through our daughter."
Mason's fist slammed onto the desk, scattering papers. "I should have killed her when I had the chance."
"The Council would have used it against us," Thomas reminded him. "We needed their support for the integration. You made the right tactical decision."
"Tactical decisions don't mean much if my family ends up dead," Mason growled.
Through the window, I could see pack members running patrols in the rain, their forms barely visible in the gathering dusk. We'd tripled security since the first intelligence had come in, but somehow it didn't feel like enough.
"There's more," Syven said, entering the office with Gregory close behind. Both men looked grim. "We've intercepted communications suggesting she's planning something for the Luna Ceremony."
I froze. "What Luna Ceremony?"
Mason actually looked uncomfortable—a rarity for him. "I was planning to make it official. This weekend. The formal recognition of you as White Moon Pack's Luna."
"You were planning this without telling me?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise," he admitted. "Every allied pack was invited. It was supposed to be a celebration of everything we've built together."
"And now Stella knows," Gregory said. "Someone leaked the information. She knows exactly when every important pack leader in North America will be gathered in one place."
The implications were staggering. If Stella attacked during the ceremony, she wouldn't just be targeting us—she'd be attempting to destabilize the entire continental pack structure we'd spent years building.
"We should cancel," Roman suggested. "Postpone until we can deal with Stella."
"That's what she expects," I countered, my mind racing through possibilities. "She's counting on us to cancel, to show weakness. It would send a message that we're afraid of her."
"We should be afraid of her," Thomas said bluntly. "She's gathered a small army of malcontents and killers. Our security, as good as it is, wasn't designed to repel a force this size."
"Then we get help," Mason said. "Every allied pack has offered support. If Stella wants a war, we'll give her one she can't win."
"Careful," I warned. "The Council is watching for any excuse to intervene. A pack war on this scale would give them justification to dissolve the integration agreements."
It was a delicate balance we'd been maintaining for years. Too much aggression, and the Council would crack down. Too little, and enemies like Stella would see weakness to exploit.
"Sir," Elena's voice came through the intercom. "You need to see this. Perimeter breach, southeast border."
We rushed to the security center, where monitors showed figures moving through the forest. Not attacking, just... walking. Openly, making no attempt to hide.
"It's a message," one of them called out, her voice carrying despite the rain. "From Stella Frost to the false Luna."
My blood chilled at the title. False Luna. She was already positioning herself as the rightful mate.
"Let me talk to them," I said.
"Absolutely not," Mason said immediately. "It's obviously a trap."
"Everything's a trap at this point," I replied. "But we need to know what she's planning."
Before he could stop me, I was moving toward the door. Mason, Roman, and Thomas fell in behind me, their protective instincts in overdrive. The rain soaked through my clothes immediately as we approached the messenger group—five women, all bearing the scars of rejected mate bonds.
"Sage Blackwood," the leader said, her smile cruel. "Or should I say, Sage Grey? Oh wait, you never actually took his name, did you? Because deep down, you know you don't belong here."
"Deliver your message and leave," Mason commanded, his Alpha voice making the air itself seem to vibrate.
The woman didn't even flinch—Stella had chosen her messengers well. "Three days. The Luna Ceremony. Stella Frost will claim what's rightfully hers. Any pack that stands with the pretenders will be considered enemies."
She pulled out a tablet, showing a video. Stella appeared on screen, sitting in what looked like a war room, surrounded by faces I recognized from our intelligence reports.
"Hello, Mason," she said, her voice honeyed poison. "And hello, Sage. I wanted to give you both a chance to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Sage, you have seventy-two hours to leave White Moon Pack territory. Take your daughter and go, and I promise you'll both live. Mason, stop this farce of a ceremony. Acknowledge what you've always known—I should be your Luna. I've loved you longer, fought beside you longer, understood you better than she ever could."
The video shifted to show footage I didn't recognize at first. Then my heart stopped. It was from eighteen years ago—the night Mason and I first met. But from angles that shouldn't have existed, showing moments I thought were private.
"I've been watching from the beginning," Stella's voice continued. "Every moment, every lie, every manipulation. Did you know, Mason, that her birth control failed three months before she claimed? She trapped you with that pregnancy, used Rory to cement her position."
"That's not—" I started, but Mason's hand on my arm stopped me.
"I have allies in places you can't imagine," Stella continued. "Council members who remember the old ways, pack leaders who resent the integration, scientists who helped create the original virus. Did you think Gregory was the only one who kept samples? Did you think the Council's research was truly destroyed?"
The implications made my blood run cold. If she had access to the virus research...
"Seventy-two hours," Stella repeated. "Sage leaves, or everyone dies. And Mason... I know you'll make the right choice. You always were too noble for your own good."
The video ended, and the messenger smiled. "Any response for Ms. Frost?"
"Yes," Mason said, his voice deadly quiet. "Tell her if she comes near my family, I'll tear her apart with my bare hands. Tell her she has seventy-two hours to surrender herself to pack justice. And tell her," he paused, looking at me with an intensity that took my breath away, "that Sage Grey is my mate, my equal, my chosen Luna, and anyone who threatens her threatens me."
The messengers retreated, but their laughter echoed through the rain.
As we walked back to the house, Mason's phone buzzed. Then Thomas's. Then mine. Within seconds, every phone in White Moon Pack was lighting up with messages.
"What's happening?" I asked, pulling out my phone.
The messages were from allied packs, all variations of the same theme: They were coming. The Luna Ceremony would proceed as planned. And they would stand with White Moon Pack against any threat.
"She miscalculated," Thomas said, something like wonder in his voice. "She thought the threat would isolate us, make other packs afraid to get involved. Instead..."
"Instead, she's united them," Roman finished. "Nothing brings packs together like a common enemy threatening pack law."
By the time we reached the house, the first vehicles were already arriving. Carson and Leah from the Mountain Pack, their convoy of thirty fighters. Miguel and Anna from the Desert Wolves, bringing their best trackers. Even packs we'd had tensions with were sending support.
"This is escalating beyond what anyone expected," Gregory warned. "If this many packs gather, if violence breaks out..."
"The Council will have no choice but to intervene," I finished. "Which might be exactly what Stella wants. Create enough chaos that the Council dissolves the integration agreements, returns to the old authoritarian system where someone like her could seize power through strength alone."
"Then we need to be smarter," Mason said. "We can't just meet force with force."
"Sir," one of the patrol guards rushed in, rain streaming from his coat. "We have a problem. The north border—there are civilians gathering. Humans. Hundreds of them, maybe more. They're... they're live-streaming everything."
We rushed to the monitors showing the north perimeter. Indeed, crowds of humans with cameras, phones, and professional recording equipment were setting up just outside pack territory.
"How did they know?" Thomas demanded.
The answer came from the screens as reporters began broadcasting. "We're here at White Moon Pack territory where sources indicate a massive confrontation is brewing. Unconfirmed reports suggest a challenge to pack leadership, with potential implications for human-wolf relations nationwide..."
"Stella," I breathed. "She's turned this into a public spectacle. If we fight, if we show violence, it confirms every human fear about our kind. But if we don't defend ourselves..."
"We look weak, and she wins by default," Mason finished.
Through the windows, we could see more vehicles arriving. Allied packs, potential enemies, media, curious civilians—all converging on White Moon Pack territory. The Luna Ceremony I'd never asked for was turning into something far bigger and more dangerous than anyone had anticipated.
"Mason," I said quietly. "We need to talk. Alone."
He followed me to our private quarters, away from the chaos below. Once the door closed, I turned to face him.
"You should accept her offer," I said.
"What?" His shock was genuine.
"Tell everyone I left. That I took Rory and ran. Let Stella have what she wants. It's the only way to avoid—"
He kissed me, cutting off my words. When he pulled back, his eyes were fierce with determination.
"Eighteen years ago, I chose you," he said. "Not because of the pregnancy, not because of obligation, but because from the moment I met you, I knew you were my mate. Stella can gather all the enemies she wants. She can turn this into a public spectacle. She can threaten and manipulate and scheme. But she will never be my Luna. That position belongs to you, whether you want it or not."
"Mason—"
"No. We face this together, or not at all. In seventy-two hours, in front of allies and enemies alike, I'm going to officially name you my Luna. And if Stella wants to challenge that, she can try."
Before I could respond, Rory burst through the door, her phone in hand, face pale.
"Mom, Dad, you need to see this. Stella just posted a video online. It's... it's about my birth. She has medical records, genetic tests, things that were supposed to be destroyed. She's claiming I'm not really Dad's daughter."
The phone showed a video with millions of views already. Stella, looking directly at the camera, holding documents that shouldn't exist.
"The truth about White Moon Pack's princess," she was saying. "The truth about the lies Sage Grey has built her entire life on."
My heart stopped as I recognized the documents she was holding. Papers from a genetic test that had been run when Rory was born, showing an anomaly in her DNA that we'd never fully understood.
Papers that, taken out of context, could be made to look like proof of infidelity.
Papers that could destroy everything we'd built, regardless of whether we won the coming physical confrontation or not.