The pack council chambers are a room built on the bones of tradition, where the heavy oak table bears the scars of centuries of Alpha debates.

Darien stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Amias, his jaw so tight it aches. He can feel the weight of a dozen judgmental eyes—the Elders, the high-ranking officers, the men who have spent their lives bowing to the Bellamy name and are now clearly salivating at the chance to tear it down.

At the head of the opposition sits the Beta—Lira’s father. His furious grief has been turned into a political weapon aimed at the Bellamys. Beside him, the Gamma nods in stoic agreement, while the Delta, Heidi’s foster father, watches with a pained, conflicted silence.

"The Bellamy line is a cancer," the Beta snarls, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "Your father was a traitor who dealt in rogues. His mate is a sister-slayer. Your brother is a shadow-witch who murdered the King and the Luna. You ask us for loyalty? You have brought nothing but rot to the Duskwind pack!"

Look at them, Darien thinks, his blood simmering. The vultures have finally found a carcass they think they can pick clean.

Darien takes a step forward, his shadow stretching long across the floorboards. He dips his hands in his pockets, scoffing.

"It’s funny," Darien says, his eyes locking onto a specific Elder who is nodding a bit too vigorously. "How quickly we forget. I remember three years ago when the ’Bellamy rot’ secured the silver mines in the north, and you, Gamma, took a fifteen percent cut of the surplus. I remember my father’s ’evil secret missions’ that cleared the southern border of the Ravagers—missions that three of you sitting here personally funded and benefited from."

The room goes deathly still. The Beta’s eyes narrow, but Darien doesn’t stop.

"Don’t sit there and play the saint because the man who signed the checks is ash," Darien continues, his lip curling. "You were in alignment with him when it lined your pockets. You can’t claim the moral high ground now just because the wind has changed."

Amias joins him, his voice is steadier than Darien expected. Despite the grief clinging to his brother like a shroud, Amias still carries the weight of a born leader.

"No one handles this pack like the Bellamys," Amias says, his gaze sweeping the room. "Look at the map. Look at the strength of our warriors. Our ancestors built the largest pack in the world, and we have maintained it through every blood moon and war. You want to withdraw our seat? Who among you has the blood or the strength to keep the neighboring factions from invading the moment a Bellamy isn’t on the throne?"

"The strength is gone!" an Elder shouts. "Your family is dysfunctional! You are a tragedy waiting to happen!"

"The evil is dealt with," Darien counters, his voice cracking with an emotion he can’t entirely hide. "Tobias is dead. Rayne has been banished to live out her days in shame. Morgan is in the deepest cell in the dungeon. The rot has been cut out, and the wound is closing. We are healing. Give the pack—and us—the chance to make it right."

The Council retreats into a whispered, frantic huddle. The silence that follows is agonizing. Darien watches the Delta, hoping for a sign, but the man looks away, unable to meet his eyes. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Finally, the eldest member of the Council stands.

The Elder begins with his voice like dry leaves. "We recognize the history of your blood, but the pack is on the verge of rebellion. We will grant an ultimatum. Amias, you will remain as Alpha under a six-month probation. If there is not a significant positive change—if the peace is not absolute and your worth is not proven beyond doubt—the Bellamy name will be stripped of its title, and you will be demoted to the rank of Omega."

Darien feels a surge of relief, but beside him, Amias goes perfectly still.

"Six months," Amias repeats. He lets out a soft, bitter laugh that chills the air. He looks at the Beta, then at the Elders, and finally at Darien.

"I’ve spent my entire life being groomed for a seat that feels like a throne of glass," Amias says. He slowly reaches up and unclips the Alpha’s sigil from his collar, laying it on the heavy oak table with a hollow thud. "I don’t want it. I don’t want your probation, and I don’t want to lead a group of men who only follow me when they’re afraid of my father."

The room erupts in gasps.

"I am leaving," Amias announces, his voice ringing with a sudden, terrifying clarity. "I am taking Isolde, and we are leaving this pack to find a new beginning. Away from the toxicity and away from the lies."

He turns to Darien, his eyes wet with tears. "Take it, Darien. You’re the only one left who can hold the pieces."

Darien stares at the sigil on the table. He thinks of the responsibility, the politics, the endless nights of looking over his shoulder. He thinks of the way this house has devoured everyone he loves.

"No," Darien shakes his head.

He looks past the Council, past the doors, to where he knows Heidi is waiting.

"I reject the position as well," Darien tells the stunned Council. He feels a strange, soaring sense of freedom as he says the words. "The position doesn’t belong to a Bellamy. It doesn’t belong to a man who wants to play god."

He looks the Beta dead in the eye.

"The position belongs to Heidi. She is the one chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. Her God-Wolf is the only proof this pack needs. If you want a leader who can actually heal the Duskwind, you stop looking at bloodlines and start looking at the miracle standing in your own hallways."

...

For the first time in history, the patriarchy of the Duskwind Council is faced with a truth they cannot argue: their strength has failed, and their only hope wears the coat of a God-Wolf.