Chapter 13
556words
Shadowfang Pack had split down the middle. Half supported Ethan. Half supported Damon.
The division was visible even in how they sat—Ethan's supporters on the left, Damon's on the right, with a wide gulf of empty space between them.
Elder Whitehawk stood at the center, his ancient staff gleaming in the torchlight.
"We are here," he announced, "to address the formal challenge to Alpha succession rights."
Ethan sat rigid in his chair, his face a mask of barely controlled fury. The past three days had aged him years.
Damon stood calmly beside me, his presence steady as stone.
"The Council has reviewed the evidence," Elder Whitehawk continued. "Recent events have raised serious questions about leadership judgment."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"An Alpha who cannot detect basic deception," another Elder added, "poses a risk to all Packs under his protection."
Ethan shot to his feet. "I was deceived by forbidden magic! No one could have—"
"Sienna detected it," Elder Whitehawk interrupted quietly.
The words hit like a slap. Ethan's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.
"Furthermore," Elder Whitehawk said, "we have received concerning reports about recent activities."
"What activities?" Ethan demanded.
"Secret meetings with border Packs. Promises of territory and power."
Ethan's face went white. "Those were legitimate diplomatic—"
"Were they?" Damon stepped forward, producing a leather folder. "Because we have records."
I watched Ethan's supporters shift uncomfortably. Doubt was creeping in.
"Marcus Ironwood," Damon called out.
One of Ethan's supporters stood slowly. "Yes?"
"Tell the Council what Ethan promised you."
Marcus's face went pale. "I... that was private..."
"About expanding territory into Moonlight lands?" I asked sweetly.
Gasps echoed through the hall.
"You're twisting my words!" Ethan roared.
"Am I?" I pulled out a recording stone. "Shall we let everyone hear?"
Ethan's face cycled through rage and desperation.
"This is a setup," he said finally. "All of it."
"Since you chose lies over truth?" Damon asked.
"I call for an immediate vote," Elder Whitehawk announced. "All in favor of transferring Alpha succession rights to Damon Blackwood?"
Hands rose throughout the hall. Not just Damon's supporters—several of Ethan's people had switched sides.
"All opposed?"
Fewer hands this time. Much fewer.
"The motion carries," Elder Whitehawk declared. "Damon Blackwood is hereby recognized as Alpha heir of Shadowfang Pack."
Ethan staggered backward as if struck.
"This isn't over," he whispered.
But his voice lacked conviction.
"Yes," I said quietly, "it is."
As the hall emptied, Ethan stood alone.
"You planned this," he said, voice hollow. "All of it."
"I planned justice," I corrected.
"You set me up."
"I gave you rope. You chose to hang yourself with it."
Ethan's laugh was bitter. "And now what? You rule through your puppet?"
Damon stepped forward. "I'm no one's puppet, Ethan. I'm what you could have been."
"Get out," Elder Whitehawk said quietly. "You have one hour to leave Shadowfang territory."
"This is my home," Ethan protested weakly.
"Not anymore."
As Ethan stumbled toward the door, he paused beside me.
"I know what you are," he whispered. "What we both are. This isn't over."
I met his gaze with ice-cold certainty.
"It is for you."
The doors closed behind him.
Damon's hand found mine. "Phase one complete?"
I smiled, feeling Fenrir's satisfaction.
"Phase one complete. Now the real work begins."
