The Alpha’s Fear
In the Midnight Crest Alpha’s study, Garrick’s pacing was relentless, his boots slamming against the wooden floor with each step. His grizzled features were set in a scowl, the lines on his face deepening as his thoughts churned.
“Do you see what you’ve done, Lenora?” he snapped, turning toward his wife. “I told you to get rid of that child when you had the chance.”
Lenora, perched gracefully on the edge of an armchair, sipped her tea with a calmness that only infuriated him further. Her beauty, cold and statuesque, was unmarred by his anger. “And what would you have had me do, Garrick?” she replied, her tone icy. “Drown her in the river? Leave her in the woods? You’ve been crying about her existence since the day she was born, and yet here she is.”
“Here she is,” Garrick growled. “Luna of Crimson Fang. Do you have any idea what that means for us?”
Lenora set her teacup down, her expression unchanging. “It means Draven finally has a Luna. Congratulations to him.”
“It means,” Garrick barked, “that his pack is stronger than ever. Do you think he’ll stop at his borders now? Do you think he won’t look at our land next? With a Luna by his side, he has the power to claim whatever he wants, and we’d be fools to think he’ll leave us alone.”
Lenora tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “Then what do you propose we do, Garrick? March on Crimson Fang? Declare war?”
The door to the study creaked open before Garrick could respond. Seraphine entered, her presence commanding and confident. She looked between her parents, the corners of her lips curling into a sly smile. “You won’t have to do anything,” she said. “Leave it to me.”
Garrick turned to her, his scowl deepening. “What are you talking about, Seraphine?”
She stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the floor. “Three moons,” she said, her voice smooth and measured. “That’s how long they have before Isla is officially recognized as Luna. Until then, nothing is set in stone.”
Lenora arched a brow. “And what exactly do you plan to do, my dear?”
Seraphine’s smile widened, her eyes glinting with malice. “Isla may have survived the trials, but she’s still Isla. Weak. Naïve. Pathetic. Draven won’t see it now, but he will. And when he does, I’ll be there.”
Garrick crossed his arms, his gaze skeptical. “You think you can turn Draven against her?”
Seraphine’s smile didn’t falter. “I took Kael from her, didn’t I? What makes you think I can’t do it again?”
Lenora studied her daughter for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “And if you fail?”
“I won’t,” Seraphine said simply. “Three moons is more than enough time to show Draven that Isla isn’t the Luna he needs. When I’m done, she won’t just lose her title. She’ll lose everything.”
Garrick’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Lenora leaned back in her chair, her lips curling into a faint, approving smile. “Then by all means, Seraphine. Do what you must.”
Seraphine inclined her head, her confidence radiating as she turned to leave. As the door closed behind her, Lenora picked up her teacup again, her gaze drifting toward the fire.
“She’s ambitious, at least,” Lenora remarked idly.
“Ambition won’t save us if she fails,” Garrick muttered. But he didn’t voice the fear lingering in the back of his mind—that even Seraphine’s schemes might not be enough to stop the storm Isla’s rise to power would unleash.
