Chapter 227
Leadership isn't just about power. It’s about presence.
And today, mine was being questioned—just not to my face.
It started subtly. A shift in the way certain warriors looked at me when I passed. A pause in conversations I entered. An odd tension I could feel but not name.
After the training session, the energy had been high. The women were radiant—sweaty, sore, smiling. Most were already buzzing about the next session, asking if they could bring friends or younger pack members. Word had spread faster than wildfire, and by morning, I knew the courtyard would be flooded.
But not everyone liked the change.
“You’re doing too much, too fast,” Ella said, walking beside me through the packhouse corridor. “You’re shaking old roots. That always rattles the snakes.”
I glanced at her. “Let them rattle. I didn’t accept this role to keep the old ways warm.”
Ella smirked. “That’s my girl. Just watch your back.”
I didn’t need the reminder.
It came the moment I walked into the dining hall for the midday meal.
The room fell quiet—not for long, but long enough for me to feel the shift. A few heads turned. Whispers followed. Even some of the Elders, seated at the long table near the front, barely concealed their glances.
Roman wasn’t here yet. He’d been locked in a strategy session with Rya and Wyatt, planning the patrol rotations after the Syndicate breach. So for now, I was on my own.
Fine. I could handle a room.
I stepped forward, grabbed a plate, and sat at the far end of the warrior table—my usual spot. The conversation resumed, slowly. Forced.
“Luna,” a voice said from my right.
I turned to see Elder Halrick taking a seat across from me, a bowl of stew in his bony hands and that ever-judging look in his eyes.
“Elder,” I replied calmly, cutting into my roasted chicken.
“I hear the training session was… spirited.”
“I’d call it successful.”
He gave a tight smile. “Success is subjective. Some believe strength lies in discipline and balance, not in trying to turn every wolf into a soldier.”
“And some,” I said, smiling just as tightly, “believe discipline and strength go hand-in-hand. Especially when death doesn’t knock—it breaks the door down.”
He sipped his stew, unbothered. “You speak boldly.”
“I lead boldly.”
Halrick tilted his head. “Do you worry your… assertiveness may alienate those who are more traditional? Some of the pack—particularly the older families—feel they’re being left behind.”
“Left behind?” I laughed under my breath. “No, Elder. They’re just no longer being centered.”
His smile twitched. “Interesting phrasing.”
I leaned in slightly. “We’ve spent too many years pretending peace means silence. That as long as no one complains out loud, things are working. But quiet doesn’t mean harmony. It means fear. And I’m not running a scared pack.”
He set down his spoon. “Is that what this is to you now? Your pack?”
That made me pause.
I didn’t answer for a moment.
Then I said, “It’s ours. Roman and I lead together. But I won’t apologize for stepping forward instead of standing behind him like a silent ornament.”
Halrick’s smile faded, just slightly. “There are many who see your ambition as dangerous.”
I lifted my chin. “And I see their comfort with complacency as more dangerous.”
We stared at each other for a beat too long. Then, softly, he stood.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Luna. Because not every battle is fought with claws.”
I watched him leave, jaw tight, mind racing.
Not every battle, no.
But the sharpest ones are fought with words—and the wounds take longer to heal.
Later that night, I stood on the balcony outside our room, wrapped in one of Roman’s jackets, watching the moon climb high above the treetops. The packhouse behind me had quieted. Most were asleep. The night breeze tugged gently at my hair, cool against my flushed skin.
Roman joined me minutes later, barefoot and quiet, a glass of wine in each hand.
“You okay?” he asked, offering me one.
I took it and nodded. “Council was quiet today.”
“Which usually means they’re scheming, sulking, or stuffing their faces.”
I gave a weak smile. “I had a chat with Halrick during lunch.”
Roman groaned. “Let me guess—‘In my day, the Luna embroidered cushions and arranged tea schedules.’”
“Close,” I said. “He’s worried I’m shaking the tree too hard. Said not every battle is fought with claws.”
Roman leaned against the railing beside me. “He’s right.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
He glanced at me, teasing smirk in place. “Not about you. About the claws part. Words, Iris. They’re weapons too. More dangerous sometimes.”
I looked out over the quiet forest. “Do you think I’m doing too much?”
“No,” he said without hesitation. “I think you’re doing exactly what needs to be done. You’re just the first Luna in generations to challenge the status quo. That makes people uncomfortable. They don’t know how to categorize you.”
I sipped the wine. “Good. Let them stay confused. It gives us time to move.”
He chuckled, then turned serious. “I do think you should keep an eye on Halrick.”
“I already am.”
He nodded. “Good. If he ever crosses a line…”
I slid a hand across his chest, grounding him. “If he crosses it, I’ll be ready.”
We stood there a while longer, saying nothing, letting the silence wrap around us.
This pack would not be led by fear anymore.
Not from outside.
And definitely not from within.
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