Chapter 62 — Shadows Before the Moon
Rowan’s boots echoed sharply against the marble floors as he followed one of the guards toward the Elders’ chamber. The morning was hushed, save for the tension that hung thick in the halls like a storm about to break. The full moon was tonight. Every breath of his felt like it was measured, a reminder that his time was running short to set things right.
The double doors swung open, and he was greeted by the stern faces of the Elders seated at their long wooden table. Elder Malric sat at the head as always, hands clasped before him, eyes already sharp with judgment.
Beside them stood Rhea, poised and elegant despite the pressure they were all under. When she caught his gaze, she gave him a subtle, calming nod, hands folding neatly in front of her as though to silently say: *Easy.*
Rowan stood rigid before the council table, hands braced against its polished surface. Rhea moved to hover just behind him, her fingers twitching as if wanting to reach for him but hesitating under the Elders’ scrutiny.
Elder Malric’s eyes were like knives as they pinned Rowan in place. “You know why you’re here,” the elder began, voice taut. “Tonight is the full moon, and tonight you will take Rhea as your Luna, as you agreed to do.”
Rowan’s gaze darkened. “I agreed to nothing,” he replied evenly.
Elder Malric shot forward in his seat, hands slamming onto the table with a resounding crack. “You agreed when you failed to produce your mate! You agreed when you accepted our terms and assured us the pack would have its Luna by the full moon.”
Rowan’s wolf bristled, his voice a low growl. “That was before Giselle was taken,” he snapped. “And I will not take Rhea as my Luna.”
A gasp rustled among the other Elders. Elder Malric’s face turned a dangerous shade of red. “You will do your duty!” he bellowed, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he shot to his feet. “This is about the strength of the pack, not your personal whims. You will follow through on your word!”
Before Rowan could fire back, Rhea shifted in the seat she took to his right. “He’s had much on his plate,” she interjected smoothly, hands spreading in a gentle gesture. “And Rowan’s only concern is protecting this pack, especially in times like these.” Her dark eyes met Rowan’s briefly as if to urge him to hold his temper.
“You cannot stall forever,” Elder Malric snapped, voice rising. “Your mate is gone, and tonight is our most sacred ceremony. The pack will look to you for guidance—and for proof that we can survive these uncertain times.”
Rowan’s hands curled into fists beneath the table. Every word grated along his nerves. The Elders thought they could use him like a pawn in their schemes, thought they could erase Giselle as easily as breathing.
And gods help him, they were wrong.
He drew a slow breath and felt Rhea’s light touch under the table—just a fleeting brush of her fingers over his knuckles as if to remind him she was here.
“I appreciate your concern,” Rowan said at last, each word deliberate and laced with a calm that was anything but. “But my focus is on my true mate. If you believe a forced ceremony will solve the pack’s unrest, then you have gravely underestimated me.”
A tense silence followed, Malric’s face reddening as he leaned forward to speak again.
Rhea leaned closer to Rowan in her seat cautiously, hands raised as if to soothe him. “Rowan…” she murmured, her tone gentle. “We can wait. Or postpone. Please—”
Rowan cut her a glance that was more tired than angry. “You shouldn’t have to wait for something I never meant to give,” he told her honestly.
Elder Malric was livid. “Your personal feelings don’t matter,” he hissed. “The pack is watching. Do you intend to drag this pack into chaos because you cannot
do what must be done?”
Rowan straightened to his full height, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “What must be done is to bring my true mate home,” he declared, voice iron-strong. “And until she is at my side again, I will not take anyone as my Luna—not tonight, not ever.”
The Elders broke into furious murmurs, but Rowan held his ground, every muscle in his body tense. Rhea kept her hands folded before her, a sad, resigned look in her eyes as she remained silent, and Elder Malric glared at him as if he might tear him apart where he stood.
“You will regret this,” Elder Malric spat, his voice trembling with fury.
Rowan met his gaze without wavering. “No, Elder,” he replied, his voice like steel. “The only thing I’d regret is betraying my mate.”
Rowan’s hands curled into fists at his sides as the tense silence pressed in around him. He wasn’t going to listen to another word. Without a second thought, he shoved back his chair so hard that it scraped across the floor with a harsh screech.
“I’m done,” he growled, voice like thunder in the quiet chamber.
Elder Malric’s face darkened further, but Rowan didn’t wait for a reply. Turning on his heel, he strode toward the door, every step fueled by the raging fire under his skin. The murmurs of the Elders rose behind him like a swarm of angry bees, but he tuned them all out.
The heavy door swung open, and Rowan was halfway down the hall before the sound of softer, quicker footsteps caught up to him. Rhea.
“Rowan,” she called, her voice gentle as she fell into step at his side, careful not to touch him.
He didn’t slow.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, so softly it was almost lost under their hurried pace.
“I had to,” he answered without looking at her. “And I’ll do it again if they keep pushing.”
They moved through the empty halls together, Rhea’s presence quiet but steady as they left the council chamber far behind.
And though he could feel the mounting pressure from every corner pressing in, Rowan’s wolf growled low in his chest. This was not over. Not by a long shot.
And tonight, one way or another, they would all see that his loyalty was not something they could buy—or break.
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