Luna stood frozen, her limbs stiff as stone, heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. The crowd held its breath, the silence stretching unbearably long, like the moment before a storm breaks.
And then Tyrnhael smiled.
"An Alpha," he declared.
The words struck like a thunderclap.
Luna's eyes widened, lips parting slightly in disbelief. Around her, a ripple passed through the chamber—shock, disbelief, and something more primal. Even among the five ruling males, four of them exchanged glances, their surprise thinly veiled behind composed expressions. Only one remained unreadable.
But the crowd? The crowd erupted.
Not just clapping, but howling. Roars of approval echoed across the chamber like a wildfire let loose. It wasn't just celebration—it was instinct. Acknowledgment. Surrender.
Maedric clapped her firmly on the back, jarring her out of her daze. "You are the seventh werewolf ranked as an Alpha in this pack," he said, voice proud and booming.
Seven.
