Draven’s Dilemma
The Crimson Fang packhouse was alive with celebration. The glow of lanterns illuminated the courtyard, and the air was filled with the sound of laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. Wolves in both human and shifted forms mingled, their voices carrying a collective sense of pride and relief. For the first time in years, their pack had a Luna.
But Draven was far from the festivities. He stood on the balcony overlooking the gathering, his gaze fixed on the crowd below but his thoughts miles away. Isla had proven her worth during the trials—there was no question about her resilience or determination. She had survived, and she had earned her place. Yet doubts lingered in his mind, heavy and persistent.
“She hasn’t shifted,” Morvin had said during the council meeting earlier that day. “If she doesn’t, the pack will question her legitimacy.”
The words haunted Draven. An Alpha’s bond with his Luna wasn’t just symbolic—it was primal, tied to their wolves. Without that connection, without Isla’s wolf making itself known, cracks would form in the foundation they were building. The pack would talk. Doubts would fester.
The sound of footsteps behind him drew Draven from his thoughts. He turned to see Susan, her expression as sharp as ever, though a hint of concern softened her usual stern demeanor.
“Brooding won’t solve anything,” she said, stepping onto the balcony beside him.
“I don’t brood,” Draven replied, though his tone lacked its usual edge.
Susan leaned against the railing, her gaze following his to the celebration below. “The pack is restless,” she said. “They’ve waited years for a Luna. And now that they have one, they want to see her strength. All of it.”
Draven’s jaw tightened. “She’s already proven her strength.”
“You and I know that,” Susan said, her tone measured. “But the pack doesn’t see it that way. They’re waiting to see her wolf.”
Draven didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he watched as a group of young wolves shifted and darted through the courtyard, their movements fluid and carefree. Shifting was as natural as breathing for most wolves. But not for Isla, it seemed.
“What if she can’t?” he asked finally, his voice quieter than Susan expected.
Susan’s sharp gaze snapped to him. “She can.”
“You don’t know that,” Draven said, his tone turning grim. “If she doesn’t—”
“She will,” Susan interrupted. “That girl survived a trial that killed stronger wolves. She brought back the crest when everyone thought she’d fail. She’s stronger than you think.”
Draven turned to face her fully, his expression a mix of frustration and unease. “The council doesn’t agree. Morvin is already stirring doubt. If she doesn’t shift by the time of the ceremony, they’ll use it against her. Against me.”
Susan crossed her arms, her gaze unflinching. “Then you protect her. You’re the Alpha. Your word is law. If the pack sees you stand by her, they’ll fall in line.”
Draven exhaled slowly, the weight of leadership pressing heavily on his shoulders. “And if they don’t?”
Susan’s voice softened, a rare occurrence. “They will. But you have to believe in her first.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the celebration drifted up to the balcony, a reminder of what was at stake. Finally, Draven nodded, though the unease in his chest remained.
“Let her rest,” he said, his voice regaining some of its steel. “When she’s ready, she’ll face the pack. And if Morvin or anyone else questions her, they’ll answer to me.”
Susan smirked faintly. “Now that’s the Alpha I know.”
As she turned to leave, Draven returned his gaze to the courtyard below. His eyes found Isla, standing quietly on the sidelines of the celebration. Her bandaged shoulder and pale complexion were stark reminders of what she had endured. She looked out of place among the cheering wolves, her expression guarded, her posture stiff.
But there was something else—something in the way she held herself, even in her exhaustion. Determination. Strength. She had faced death and emerged victorious. Draven couldn’t ignore that.
“Don’t prove me wrong,” he murmured under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Isla or himself.
