Chapter 69 — A Promise Made
The ballroom buzzed with hushed excitement, the scent of food, pine, and candle smoke heavy in the air as Rowan moved through the crowd. His hand was clasped tightly with Rhea’s, the soft warmth of her skin oddly grounding. Every step he took felt slow and deliberate, his thoughts dulled, his senses focused entirely on her. She looked radiant—ethereal even—her white gown hugging her curves and catching the golden light. His heart should have been thundering. His wolf should have been roaring. But all was still.
Like he was sleepwalking.
They approached the small stage at the back of the room, where dozens of their pack members stood waiting, murmurs rippling like wind through dry grass. The moment they reached the stairs leading up, Elder Malric stepped into their path, flanked by two other Elders whose expressions were pinched with suspicion and restrained fury.
“You’ve kept us waiting long enough,” Elder Malric snapped, eyes narrowed on Rowan. “If you’re going to do what you swore, then do it. But don’t think for a second we’re going to tolerate another one of your stunts.”
Rowan straightened, chin lifted. “I gave you my word,” he said calmly, the sound of it echoing oddly in his ears. “And I will follow through.”
Elder Sora, a thin woman with gray eyes like steel, studied him with evident doubt. “Forgive us if we don’t trust a wolf who has done everything in his power to delay this union.”
Rhea shifted beside him, her grip on his hand tightening. “Rowan’s made his decision,” she said gently. “And I trust him to keep his word.”
Elder Malric’s scowl deepened. “Is that so? Because it looks to me like this is just another performance to keep your precious pack from rising against you. Do you even understand what’s at stake, boy?”
Rowan met the elder’s gaze unflinchingly. “I do. More than you think. And this isn’t a performance.”
There was a tense beat of silence.
Elder Kellen folded his arms. “Then prove it. Go up there and bind yourselves in front of your people.”
“We intend to,” Rowan said, voice even.
Still, Elder Malric hesitated. His gaze swept from Rowan to Rhea and back again, as if waiting for a crack to show—some hint of hesitation, a tell. But Rowan gave him nothing.
Finally, Elder Malric stepped aside with a bitter twist of his mouth. “Then go. And let’s hope you don’t regret this decision when your mate comes knocking.”
A ripple of unease went through Rowan’s gut, but he shoved it down.
They ascended the steps in silence, hands still linked as they turned to face the gathered pack. A hush fell across the room as every gaze fixed on them—waiting, watching. Expecting.
Rowan took a steadying breath. His mind should have been reeling. His soul should have been on fire. But all he could feel was the steady pull of Rhea at his side and the eerie silence where his wolf should have been.
The crowd was silent as Rowan and Rhea stood at the center of the stage, hands still entwined beneath the soft glow of lantern light. His eyes scanned the familiar faces below, warriors and packmates, elders and omegas—all waiting for their Alpha to seal the future they’d been promised.
But Elder Malric’s final words echoed in his mind like a curse. *"When your mate comes knocking."*
A strange twist pulled at Rowan’s gut—tight and cold. For the briefest of moments, a pit opened inside him. Unease slithered through his ribs, sharp and biting. The word *mate* rang in his ears, not as a memory, but as a warning.
A name hovered on the edge of his consciousness.
A flash of soft eyes. A voice he couldn’t quite recall.
But then it was gone.
Just like that, the pit vanished, the hollow snapped closed.
He blinked once, sharply, the haze settling over his mind once more as his gaze returned to Rhea.
She smiled at him—calm, composed, beautiful. Everything he was supposed to want.
And everything else? It could wait.
Rowan stepped forward, the stage light warming his skin as the hush of the ballroom pressed down on him. His hand still gripped Rhea’s, but even that grounding touch couldn’t shake the lingering tightness in his chest. Still, he lifted his chin and projected his voice across the room.
“Thank you all for being here,” he said, his tone firm but edged with a strange hollowness. “Tonight is a moment of unity. A moment of strength. You’ve stood by me through unrest, through conflict and uncertainty. You’ve trusted me to guide you—and I will not fail you.”
He paused for a beat, then looked down at Rhea, her beauty glowing beneath the soft chandeliers.
“It’s time we take a step forward. As your Alpha, I intend to make Rhea my mate—your Luna.”
A sharp silence fell, deeper than before.
No cheers. No howls of support. Only the distant clink of a dropped glass and the rustle of fabric shifting. The quiet pressed in, thick and suffocating, and Rowan’s brows drew together in confusion.
This was what they wanted, wasn’t it? A strong Luna. A union that brought peace to the Elders, stability to the pack.
Why did the air feel so... wrong?
Before he could voice the tension rising in his throat, Rhea stepped forward gracefully, her presence calm and commanding as her voice rang out.
“Thank you for joining us on this special night,” she said, a gentle smile on her face. “We do this not only for tradition—but for the good of our people. I promise to serve and protect this pack with everything I have, by Rowan’s side.”
That was all it took.
A smattering of cheers rose from the back, followed by more—uneven and hesitant, but louder. The uncertainty still clung to the air like a fog, but the pack was trying to accept it.
Trying to support them.
Rowan straightened his spine, something hardening inside of him.
No more doubt. No more questions.
He had made his choice.
“After tonight,” he said, voice ringing clear and deep, “Rhea will be your Luna.”
And with that, the ceremony began.
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