“Sloane Corbin stays,” I announced, my voice steady. I laid the Blood-Bound Charter on the obsidian surface. “As the Lady of Blackwood Grove and legal owner of five percent of the Marshall lands, I hold an automatic, permanent seat on this Council. And I formally nominate Sloane Corbin to join us.”

Elder Malcolm’s face drained of color. Dosha gasped, her eyes bulging. “You give the foundation of our Pack to a powerless wolfless?!” she spat at Dallas, her Inner Wolf howling in pure outrage.

Dallas leaned forward in his wheelchair, his Lycan aura exploding into the room, heavy with storm and cedar. Ragnar demanded absolute submission. “She saved my life,” Dallas growled, his voice resonating with absolute authority. “My kingdom is hers.”

Under the crushing weight of his Lycan command, no one dared breathe, let alone object. The vote was forced through in seconds. Sloane was officially inducted, and she immediately placed the glowing Memory Crystal on the table—undeniable proof of Dosha’s high treason. Dosha’s last chance to conceal her crimes evaporated.

The moment the meeting was formally adjourned, something inside Dosha snapped. With a feral, unhinged screech, she shoved her hoverchair into maximum overdrive and lunged straight for Sloane, her elongated, jagged nails aimed at her daughter’s face.

Instinct took over. I threw myself in front of Sloane, using my own body as a shield. Dosha halted just inches from me, her chest heaving, her eyes wild with madness.

I didn’t flinch. I drew myself up and tapped into the absolute authority of a Luna.

“Gamma Decker,” I commanded, my voice ringing cold and absolute through the cavernous hall. “Escort this creature from my husband’s lands.”

Vance Decker stepped out of the shadows instantly, his Inner Wolf practically purring at the order. “With pleasure, Luna.”

He and his Dire Guard flanked Dosha, ignoring her vile curses and frantic thrashing as they dragged her and her chair toward the exit. The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them, cutting off her deranged screams.

A heavy silence settled over the chamber. I let out a shaky breath, feeling the adrenaline slowly recede.

But the quiet didn’t last.

From the marble hallway outside, a new sound echoed through the thick wood.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The rhythmic, unforgiving strike of an ebony cane against stone. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet, and Dallas went completely rigid beside me.

Adella POV

The heavy oak doors didn’t simply open—they were thrust apart by an invisible, suffocating wave of ancient power. The scent of old parchment and sharp lilacs flooded the High Council Chamber.

Eleanor “Gigi” Marshall, the Matriarch of the Pack, stepped over the threshold.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Her ebony cane struck the obsidian floor with the finality of a judge’s gavel. Dosha, still thrashing in the grip of the Dire Guard, suddenly saw a lifeline.

“Matriarch!” Dosha shrieked, her voice dripping with desperate venom. “You must stop this! This outsider, this wolfless bitch is manipulating the Alpha King! She is destroying our Pack traditions—”

“Silence.” Gigi didn’t even look at her. The command was not a shout, yet it carried the absolute, freezing weight of an Elder’s Inner Wolf. Dosha’s jaw snapped shut, her eyes wide with terror.

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