Chapter 246 I Meant no Disrespect
Leela left the bustling corridors near the dining hall and followed the familiar, bright sound of her son's babbling straight into one of the smaller, quieter sitting rooms.
There, she found Toby and Sarah exactly where they had been earlier. Caspian was sitting between them, still deeply fascinated by the brightly colored picture book spread out on the cushions. As Leela walked in, Toby let out a booming, unguarded laugh at something the toddler had just done—likely imitating another animal with entirely too much enthusiasm.
Leela smiled, the warmth of her pack settling deep into her bones, completely washing away the last lingering shadows of Draven's disrespect. She stepped into the room and leaned down, effortlessly scooping a giggling Caspian up into her arms.
"Alright, you two," Leela teased gently, shifting the heavy toddler onto her hip. She offered the two lethal guards a highly suggestive wink. "You're going to need some time without babies if..."
She let the sentence trail off intentionally, her silver eyes sliding over to Sarah with a knowing, playful gleam.
Sarah immediately caught the implication and let out a breathless laugh. "Oh, no," she protested, playfully pouting up at her Luna. "We've been watching these guys forever. We're perfectly fine."
She cast a fond, deeply amused glance sideways at her massive mate. "Besides," Sarah added, a wicked little smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, "it's good practice for Toby anyway."
To completely prove her point, Sarah casually reached over. With a tender, affectionate swipe of her thumb, she wiped away a tiny, stubborn smudge of peanut butter that Toby had completely missed along his jawline from Caspian’s earlier sandwich attack.
Toby instantly turned that familiar, furious shade of red, though a wide, utterly smitten smile completely betrayed his embarrassment as he looked at his mate.
Leela chuckled softly, her heart full as Caspian happily patted her cheeks, completely oblivious to the domestic teasing. The absolute loyalty and love radiating from her pack members were her true shields against the coming dark.
Inside the packhouse, the heavy, soundproof doors of Fennigan's massive study finally clicked shut.
The lock turned with a heavy, definitive thud.
The fifteen Alphas found themselves standing in the dimly lit room, the muffled bass of the party outside completely cut off. The casual, celebratory energy instantly vanished. Damon's heavy, leather-bound slaughterhouse ledgers were already sitting dead center on Fennigan's heavy oak desk.
Fennigan walked around the desk, but he didn't take the Alpha's chair. He stood right beside it.
Leela stepped up to the desk, taking her place squarely at Fennigan's right side. Jax took his position by the locked door, his arms crossed, his Beta aura radiating pure, lethal authority.
Draven stepped forward, his sharp eyes flicking from the locked door, to the ledgers, and finally landing squarely on Leela. He knew exactly why they were there—the secret meeting to discuss the High Council and Damon's sudden death was the entire reason he had agreed to come. But his rigid, traditional worldview instantly snagged on the pregnant Luna standing at the war table.
"Fennigan," Draven rumbled, his voice low and pointedly respectful only to the male Alpha. He gestured subtly toward Leela. "The men's work is beginning. Shouldn't your mate be back outside with the other females?"
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Fennigan didn't growl. He didn't even raise his voice. He simply rested his massive hand on the small of Leela's back, presenting a deeply unified, unshakeable front.
"My mate," Fennigan stated, his voice ringing with absolute, lethal authority that left absolutely no room for debate, "is the Matriarch of the Blackwood pack. She isn't a trophy to be kept barefoot and hidden away at a party. We rule this territory together, as absolute equals."
He held Draven's gaze, letting the silence stretch until the visiting Alpha physically shifted on his feet under the weight of the Blackwood's combined power.
"If you want to survive what is coming, Draven," Leela added, her tone cool, sharp, and perfectly steady as she looked directly into the sexist Alpha's eyes. "You need to understand that the old ways are dead. A pack is only as strong as its foundation, and ours is built on equal partnership. Now, take a seat."
Draven swallowed hard, the arrogant condescension he had shown her earlier completely evaporating. He gave a stiff, respectful nod to them both and took a chair. The other fourteen Alphas quickly followed suit in absolute silence.
But Fennigan wasn't finished. Before he even glanced at the ledgers, his glowing silver eyes bore straight back into Draven.
"Before we get to the capital," Fennigan rumbled, his voice dangerously low, "you are going to explain exactly what you and your Beta were whispering about in my guest wing hallway this afternoon when my wife came upon you."
Draven stiffened, shooting a quick, nervous glance at his Beta across the room.
"And," Fennigan continued, his jaw tight, "you are going to explain why you felt entitled to treat the Luna of this pack so rudely under her own roof."
Draven cleared his throat, the absolute, crushing authority of the Blackwood Alpha forcing him to answer. "It was a private matter regarding a minor border dispute with the Northern packs," Draven muttered, his pride stinging under the public dressing-down. "I didn't want the others overhearing before we sat down tonight. As for the Luna... I simply assumed she was overwhelmed with the pups. I meant no disrespect."
It was a flimsy, archaic excuse for his behavior, and it ultimately didn't matter to the rebellion. Fennigan’s sharp instincts flared, analyzing Draven's scent and heartbeat. The political excuse was genuine—it proved Draven wasn't secretly colluding with the High Council or plotting a betrayal. Fennigan trusted him on the politics.
But he absolutely did not trust or accept his archaic ways.
"Your border disputes don't concern me tonight," Fennigan warned coldly. "But your assumptions do. You will unlearn them quickly if you want a seat at this table."
Fennigan looked at Leela, a dark, fiercely proud gleam in his silver eyes, before turning his attention back to the room. He reached out and placed his hand flat on top of Damon's heavy, leather-bound ledgers.
"As you all know," Fennigan began, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, "I sent my father's body to the capital in a pine box. But tonight, you are going to find out exactly why."