"This isn't justice," Ronan said, his voice rising despite Sarah's warning look. "This is murder. Cold-blooded assassination of kids who probably don't even know why our packs hate each other."
"Watch your tone, boy." Elder Marcus's eyes flashed gold with his wolf. "You're speaking about pack security to wolves who've bled for this territory."
"I'm speaking about right and wrong to wolves who've forgotten the difference."
The silence that followed was deafening. Ronan could hear his own heartbeat, could smell the spike of aggression from every council member. He'd crossed a line, but there was no going back now.
Marcus slowly rose from his chair, every inch the dominant Alpha. When he spoke, his voice was soft as silk and twice as dangerous.
"You think I've forgotten the difference between right and wrong?"
Ronan's wolf whimpered, recognizing the threat in his father's tone. Every instinct screamed at him to submit, to bare his throat and apologize. But his mother's voice whispered in his memory: Stand up for what's right, baby. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard.
"I think grief has made you forget what Mom would have wanted."
The crack of Marcus's palm against Ronan's cheek echoed through the chamber. The Alpha's slap carried enough force to snap a human's neck, but Ronan took it without flinching. The sting was nothing compared to the look of disgust in his father's eyes.
"Your mother," Marcus said quietly, "would want her son to have the strength to protect his pack. Not the weakness to defend our enemies."
"She'd want me to find another way."
"There is no other way!" The Alpha's control finally cracked, his voice booming through the chamber. "There is only strength or death! Power or submission! You can choose to be the Alpha this pack needs, or you can choose to be responsible for the next funeral!"
The words hung in the air like a challenge. Around the table, the pack elders watched with predatory interest. This was the moment, Ronan realized. The test that would determine his entire future.
He thought about the three young Capulets on the map. Thought about his mother's gentle hands teaching him guitar. Thought about the leader he wanted to become versus the one his father demanded.
"I won't be party to murder," he said quietly.
Marcus nodded once, as if Ronan had confirmed his worst fears. The disappointment in his father's eyes was somehow worse than the slap had been.
"Then you won't be party to leadership." Marcus's voice was flat, emotionless. "Beta Sarah."
Sarah straightened, her face carefully neutral. "Yes, Alpha?"
"Contact Moonrise Academy. Our heir requires... education in proper Alpha priorities."
Ronan's stomach dropped. Moonrise Academy was where pack leaders sent their children to be molded into proper little politicians. It was exile disguised as opportunity.
"Marcus," Sarah said carefully, "perhaps we should discuss—"
"The decision is made." Marcus turned back to his son, and Ronan saw something that might have been grief in those golden eyes. "You'll leave next week. Learn what it means to be a real Alpha, or learn what it means to be replaced."
The threat hung in the air between them. Ronan's cousin Derek had always been ambitious, always ready to step into the heir's role if needed. One word from Marcus, and everything Ronan had been raised to inherit would disappear.
"I understand," Ronan said, though he understood nothing except that his world had just shattered.
His father nodded curtly. "Council dismissed."
As the elders filed out, murmuring among themselves about the heir's shocking display of weakness, Ronan remained seated. Sarah lingered, her eyes full of sympathy and something that might have been pride.
"Your mother would be proud," she whispered as she passed his chair.
But as Ronan sat alone in the empty chamber, staring at the map that marked three young lives for death, he wondered if being right was worth losing everything.