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"Hold the fuck, Theon," Bernardo says as soon as he steps into his study.

"Welcome from your trip Beta," 

"Now's not the time to be like that with me. What is this going around, who let the dogs out?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the chair in the corner of the study.

"Today is the general council meeting correct? You will hear for yourself." He says, his voice flat.

"Hey, you know I'll only support what's both good for you and the pack so don't blame me too much after I hear them speak." 

Theon says nothing, he understands that for a Beta, even though he swore an oath to the Alpha, the purpose is to protect the good of the pack. 

Soon they walk into the meeting hall that smells faintly of polished wood and the lingering musk of the council elders who arrived before anyone else. Lumina sits on the right side of the long table, her fingers curling loosely around the armrest of the high-backed chair. She can feel every pair of eyes on Theon as he walks in.

Bernardo, the Beta, is already seated.

Theon takes his seat at the head of the table, his shoulders square, posture carved out of stone. He doesn’t look at Lumina yet, but she can see the tension in the way his jaw shifts, the faint tightening of his hands on the armrests.

One of the elders clears his throat—a deliberate, slow sound that echoes in the otherwise still room. “Alpha,” he begins, his tone lined with formality but sharp underneath, “the matter of the pack’s future cannot be delayed any longer. The rumors have even reached the outer territories.”

Lumina feels her stomach knot. Rumors. She knows exactly which ones.

Bernardo leans forward, voice even but low. “I came back to find the same whispers, but we have to first understand the situation.”

Another elder, grey hair tied back with a leather cord, fixes Theon with a steady gaze. “We have no heir. The pack is restless. It is time you took another wife to ensure the line.”

The air shifts—thick, pressing against Lumina’s chest.

Theon’s answer is immediate, his voice like a blade. “No.”

A ripple of quiet spreads down the table. The refusal isn’t just firm—it’s final.

“Alpha—” the eldest of them starts again, but Theon cuts him off, his tone still cold but louder now. “No. I will not take another wife.”

Lumina watches the exchange, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She knows how rare it is for him to shut someone down in public like this. The council isn’t used to being dismissed so quickly.

One of the elders exhales slowly, folding his hands on the table. “Then you leave us no choice but to plan for an alternative. The pack cannot be left vulnerable. We cannot build a future on sentiment.”

Bernardo shifts in his seat, glancing between them. His voice is quieter this time, almost testing the waters. “There’s still the girl twin…” Bernardo replies, his tone neutral but weighted.

Another elder seizes the moment. “But she is female. And as tradition stands, women do not sit on the Alpha throne.”

Lumina straightens in her seat, her fingers tightening on the chair. She wants to speak, but she forces herself to stay quiet, letting her gaze rest on Theon instead.

Theon’s eyes narrow slightly. “That child carries the Lycan within her. She is not like the others. That makes her more than fit to lead, should it come to it.”

The response earns a few murmurs around the table. One of the older men shakes his head slowly, the motion deliberate. “Tradition outweighs exceptions, Alpha. If we bend it once, we risk breaking the foundation entirely.”

Theon leans forward slightly, his voice lowering but gaining that dangerous edge Lumina has heard before. “And if you cling to the past so tightly that you strangle the future? Is that the foundation you want?”

The silence after that is heavy. Even the faint creak of wood as someone shifts in their chair feels too loud.

Lumina’s eyes move over the faces of the council. Some look away, unwilling to challenge him directly. Others hold his gaze, their expressions set.

Bernardo clears his throat again, more carefully this time. “Alpha, no one here wishes to challenge your authority. But the pack is worried. They want stability.”

“And they think undermining me will give it to them?” Theon’s voice hardens further.

One of the middle-aged elders, stocky, with a deep scar across his chin, speaks for the first time. “You’re young enough to take another wife, strong enough to give us an heir. Why invite risk when the solution is so simple?”

Lumina feels the words like small, sharp stones hitting her skin. She glances toward Theon, searching for any flicker of reaction, but his expression stays controlled. Only the slight flex of his jaw gives him away.

“I will not be forced,” Theon says, each word deliberate. “And I will not treat my mate as if she’s disposable.”

A faint, restless stir moves down the table.

The eldest elder sighs, the sound slow and heavy. “Then you are making this harder than it needs to be.”

Theon straightens in his seat, his Lycan presence brushing against the edges of the room. Lumina feels it—a subtle pressure in the air, like the space itself is holding its breath. His eyes darken, a faint golden ring beginning to glow around the pupils.

“This conversation,” he says, “is finished.”

The elders don’t argue further, but the look they exchange is enough. Quiet, but organized. Opposition without open defiance—yet.

Lumina studies them, the unease pooling low in her stomach. It isn’t just about heirs. It’s about eroding Theon’s authority piece by piece.

Bernardo’s voice breaks the silence. “Alpha, with respect, I think it’s worth reconsidering. Not for now, maybe, but in time—”

“No.” Theon’s gaze locks on him. “Not in time. Not ever Beta.”

Bernardo’s mouth shuts, but his eyes drop briefly to the table, and Lumina can’t tell if it’s submission or calculation.

Theon doesn’t move at first. His gaze stays locked on the elder speaking, but there’s no softness in it—only the kind of stare that makes most people lower their eyes.

“You question the stability of my leadership,” he says, voice even but with a weight that makes the air feel thicker.

“No,” the oldest elder answers quickly, shaking his head. “We question what happens if the curse… wins.”

Theon’s jaw tightens. His Lycan surges in the back of his mind, not in blind rage, but in the quiet, restrained way that’s somehow more dangerous. They think you’re weak. They think we’re dying already.

Another elder leans forward, elbows on the table. “This is not about doubting you, Alpha. It is about preparing for the worst. The pack must know there will be a strong heir to lead if—”

“If,” Theon cuts in, “I fall.”

The table goes silent for a beat. Lumina watches the way his hands curl into fists on the table, knuckles paling.

One of the younger elders clears his throat, breaking the pause. “Exactly. You’re a strong Alpha, but seeing how bad the pup's situation is. We can’t pretend it’s not real.”

Bernardo exhales sharply, glancing at Theon before speaking. “With all respect, bringing this up now is dangerous. The pack is already on edge. You throw doubts like this into the air and it will spread faster than wildfire.”

The oldest elder turns to him. “Would you rather we speak of it only when it’s too late?”

Theon’s Lycan presses harder, a low, vibrating growl in his head. They want to choose for us. They want control.

His voice drops lower. “I have not given this pack a reason to fear for their future. Not one. So I will ask again—why now?”

One of the elders shifts in his seat. “Because we’ve seen the way the curse is… progressing.” His eyes flicker briefly to Lumina before returning to Theon. “We’ve heard the whispers.”

“What whispers?” Theon’s words are flat, but Lumina can hear the strain behind them.

“That even the white witch is yet to solve the problem.” The man swallows.

The Lycan in Theon slams against his ribs. Lumina sees it—the sudden stiffness in his shoulders, the way the muscles in his neck flex like he’s holding back something feral. She feels her own nails pressing into her palms under the table.

Bernardo’s tone sharpens. “You’re stepping out of line.”

“We’re speaking truth,” another elder insists. “If the Mother of all sorcerers can't even find a solution, and if there’s no heir, then the pack’s safety is compromised.”

Theon leans forward now, both palms flat on the table, and when he speaks, there’s a cold clarity in his tone. "I am beginning to think this is far from the heir shit"

Silence again. No one meets his eyes this time.

“You can dress it in tradition,” he continues, “in stories about curses and safety. But you want guarantees. And the only guarantee you trust is one you control.”

The oldest elder doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says, “We want to know there will be someone strong enough to take over without contest—if the time comes.”

Lumina feels the room’s temperature drop. She’s not sure if it’s Theon’s presence or the tension hanging heavy between them.

Bernardo shifts, but Theon lifts a hand slightly—just enough to tell him not to interfere. “You’ll have your answer,” Theon says finally, voice like steel scraping stone. “But not tonight. And not here, when your words reek of fear.”

An elder opens his mouth to speak again, but Theon’s gaze cuts to him so sharply he closes it without a sound.

“This meeting is over.” Theon’s chair scrapes as he stands.

Bernardo rises with him, giving the elders one last look before following. Lumina doesn’t move right away. She watches Theon’s back, sees the way his shoulders are pulled tight, every step measured like he’s holding something dangerous inside.

When she finally follows him out into the hall, the heavy doors closing behind her, the shift in the air is immediate. It’s quieter, but not calmer—Theon’s tension fills the space.

“You didn’t have to end it like that,” she says softly.

“Yes, I did.” He doesn’t slow his pace.

“They’re only—”

“They’re not only anything,” he cuts in, stopping so suddenly she almost runs into him. He turns to face her, and his eyes are darker than they were inside. “They’re setting the stage.”

“For what?” she asks, though she’s not sure she wants the answer.

His Lycan’s presence is close enough that she can almost feel it pressing against her skin. “For replacing my mate, the Luna that's always fought for them, they've all lost their minds.” He stomps out.