Chapter 226
By noon, the council chamber was packed with bodies and tension.
The room, usually reserved for mundane decisions—food distribution, festival budgets, patrol shifts—now felt like a powder keg. Every Elder, every warrior captain, even a few trusted advisors had shown up. Word of the Blackfang threat had already spread like wildfire, and most weren’t thrilled to learn about it from whispers rather than their Alpha.
Roman stood at the front of the chamber, calm and unreadable. His presence alone was enough to silence even the loudest dissent. But today, they weren’t just looking at him.
They were looking at me.
And I wasn’t about to stand in anyone’s shadow.
I stepped forward. The scrape of my boots echoed louder than I expected, but I didn’t falter.
“The Syndicate has breached our borders,” I began, voice steady. “A scout was captured. He confirmed what many of us already feared—they aren’t here for land or negotiation. They’re here to dismantle us from the inside.”
A few low murmurs rippled through the room. One Elder, a thin man with silver brows named Halrick, cleared his throat loudly.
“And we’re just hearing about this now?” he asked, tone sharp. “Shouldn’t we have been consulted before action was taken?”
Roman didn’t even blink. “I don’t need permission to protect this pack.”
“Well said,” I added, offering Halrick a dry smile. “But we’re not here to argue about who should’ve been cc’d in the pack gossip chain. We’re here because we have a decision to make. Do we wait and react—or do we prepare and survive?”
Silence.
Good.
I continued, “Effective immediately, I’ll be heading a full-scale defense initiative. That includes training sessions for all pack members—including the women.”
That broke the silence.
Murmurs became protests. Someone in the back laughed nervously. Another Elder, this one with a bushy beard and a voice like sandpaper, stood.
“You’re suggesting we pull women from childcare, healing, and administration to put swords in their hands?”
“No,” I said. “I’m suggesting we give them choices. Not everyone will fight, but those who want to defend themselves and this pack will be trained. Fully. No more coddling. The world doesn’t play fair, and neither will Blackfang.”
Another voice—this time a woman, surprisingly—spoke up. “And what if that creates panic? If the young see the Luna preparing for war, won’t that send the wrong message?”
I tilted my head. “You think fear is the wrong message when assassins are testing our defenses?”
She had the grace to lower her gaze.
Roman stepped up beside me then, placing a hand gently on my lower back. Supportive. Silent. But powerful. He didn’t need to speak—I had his backing. That was enough.
I turned back to the room. “We’ve trained a generation to believe that strength lives in muscle and rank. But strength wears many faces. And I’ll be damned if the next time an enemy comes for our pack, our women are forced to stand behind the men, waiting to be saved.”
That earned a few slow nods.
“Anyone with a problem,” I added, “is welcome to join the first session and see for themselves what we’re capable of.”
Challenge dropped.
Nobody picked it up.
The meeting ended with tension still hanging thick in the air, but we left with what we needed: approval to begin training and resources to support it.
That night, I stood in the sparring arena, lacing up leather bracers as a crowd of nearly thirty women formed a loose semicircle around me. Some were seasoned healers. Some barely teenagers. A few were mothers who’d left dinner simmering to see what all the fuss was about.
Ella stood beside me, her expression fierce. “Remind me to make you Luna of everything.”
I smirked. “Wasn’t that always the plan?”
Across the ring, I spotted a few familiar faces—Rya, arms crossed and already in motion to warm up. A shy girl named Lila who had applied to the pack days ago and flunked out of the interview due to nerves. Even Mari, one of our most skilled seamstresses, had traded in her needles for padded gloves.
I stepped forward.
“You’re not here because you’re weak,” I told them. “You’re here because you’re smart. Because you’ve seen what’s out there and you’ve decided you won’t wait for someone to protect you.”
A few women nodded. Others stayed still, uncertain.
Good. Doubt was honest. It would burn off in time.
“The first step,” I said, “is forgetting everything you’ve been told about your limits.”
Ella snorted. “And the second?”
“Punching them in the face.”
That got a few grins.
We started with basics—stance, balance, breathing. I watched mothers shed hesitation, teens discover their footing, and seasoned warriors adjust to new techniques. There was no magic formula here. Just grit and determination.
And a lot of bruises.
“You sure this is a beginner stance?” Mari wheezed, wobbling in her squat.
“You sure that was dinner I smelled on your gloves earlier?” I teased.
“I was cooking stew!”
“Well, now you’re cooking quads.”
More laughter.
And underneath it… unity.
As the session wore on, sweat shimmered on every face, and something changed. Shoulders rolled back. Chins lifted. The doubt cracked open and power poured through.
This wasn’t just training.
This was awakening.
Near the end of the session, I called a break and walked to the far edge of the ring to grab water. Roman was watching from the shadows near the gate, arms crossed, lips curled into a smirk.
“You’re enjoying this,” I said, tossing him a bottle.
He caught it with ease. “I’m enjoying you.”
I took a long sip and wiped my mouth. “Think they’ll take us seriously now?”
“They’d be fools not to.”
I leaned into him, just for a second. Just long enough to ground myself.
“I’m scared,” I admitted softly. “Of what’s coming. Of how easily they spoke about separating us. Like I’m a pawn.”
He turned his face toward mine. “They see you as a threat. That’s what scared people do. They try to tear apart what they can’t control.”
“I’m not going to be torn.”
He nodded. “I know. That’s why you’re leading them.”
We stood there a little longer, the ring buzzing with life behind us.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
