Lucien.
Dawn broke far more quickly than I would have wanted it to.
Despite pulling an all-nighter, the stack of responsibilities before me showed no sign of lessening. The full moon was tomorrow, and there were still too many loose ends that needed tightening before then.
Normally, preparations were completed three days in advance. I trusted that the pack members overseeing the other arrangements had done their part. What remained were my duties—duties I should have handled earlier.
But recent distractions had not allowed me to focus, and that was how the approaching full moon had slipped pass my awareness far more easily than it ever should have.
I signed my name at the bottom of yet another document—approval for the provision of a new set of weapons for the patrol team scheduled for tomorrow night.
A heavy sigh escaped me.
My arms ached from hours of writing. My eyes burned, weighed down by exhaustion, and it was only discipline that kept them open. I stood briefly, stretching stiff muscles, before returning to the desk.
The next document was familiar in structure. I skimmed through it quickly, just as I had the others, flipping to the final page and lifting my pen—
…all unmated wolves shall shift only within the pack house…
My hand froze midair.
How could I have forgotten this?
Every full moon, unmated and inexperienced wolves were required to shift inside the pack house under supervision. It was an ancient custom—one designed to prevent loss of control and minimize casualties.
That was where wolves were restrained if necessary. That was where disasters were contained before they escalated.
I had overlooked it because I never shifted among the pack on full moons. And also because the elders who supervised the event ensured it always ran smoothly.
But this time it was different. I couldn't be nonchalant towards it because she was here.
Amara.
Tomorrow, her shift would not be a choice. It would come whether she was ready or not. She would be forced to surrender to her wolf.
And I knew how much that terrified her.
She was only just beginning to accept that part of herself. If tomorrow shattered that fragile bond she had just created, she might reject her wolf all over again.
That could not happen.
I would not allow it.
Anxious pheromones leaked despite my effort to contain them. I rose abruptly, stacked the documents clumsily on top of each other before leaving the office.
Outside, the pack house buzzed with life. Wolves moved through the halls laughing, talking, preparing. Excitement ran through the pack bond—anticipation for the full moon celebration.
I hoped my anxiety did not seep into our bond.
"Alpha."
I stooped in my tracks and turned.
Elder Yva. Elder Moira. Elder Velma. They bowed slightly before approaching.
I did not have time for this.
"Elders," I acknowledged, already glancing toward the main entrance and then at my wrist watch.
"I'm busy," I added frankly. "Is this urgent?"
"Has our presence ever been trivial?" Elder Moira snapped, clearly offended.
Elder Yva forced a smile. "It will not take long, Alpha."
My jaw tightened. I weighed the gate against their expectant stares.
"Twenty minutes," I said, turning back toward my office.
Once inside, I offered them seats and took my place behind the desk. "Speak."
"As you know," Elder Yva began, "all inexperienced and unmated wolves are required to shift in the pack house. This tradition predates this pack itself."
I said nothing.
"Normally we handle this without troubling you," Moira added. "But we presume you have seen and signed the decree reaffirming this rule?"
So that was it.
"Has someone opposed it?" I asked calmly, already knowing the answer.
Velma watched me closely, her lips curved in a faint, knowing smile.
"Zora," Yva hissed. "After defying the council by bringing in the daughter of her rogue son—"
"Get to the point."
My words sounded colder than I intended it to. But I couldn't help myself.
How dare she speak of my mate with such disdain?
Velma's amusement sharpened at my reaction, her eyes brightening as my restrained anger leaked into the room.
"She insists her granddaughter will not shift in the pack house," Yva continued.
As I suspected.
While I had been occupied, Zora had been shielding Amara from exposure.
The thought eased my irritation—until I caught Velma's gaze again. I immediately suppressed my emotions.
"Tell me," I said evenly. "Are there consequences if she does not shift here?"
Yva and Moira stiffened.
"Alpha," Yva exclaimed, "this tradition exists for a reason—"
Moira softened her tone. "It protects them. You know this."
I leaned back, fingers interlaced. "I will speak with Elder Zora."
That alone was enough to unsettle them. It meant I was granting Zora room to negotiate.
And I intended to agree with her. After all, her decision were meant to keep my mate safe. Why then would I oppose that?
However, the looks on the elders' face told me all I needed to know about how badly they took my nonchalance towards such a grand tradition.
But despite their displeasure, none of them mouthed a single word—how could they, when my pheromones was literally forcing them into submission? How could they, when both my tone and my voice sounded so resolute.
"If that is your decision," Moira said stiffly, "we shall take our leave."
They departed, their displeasure rippling faintly through the pack bond.
After they left, I wasted no time rushing to Elder Zora's house.
Amara's distress hit me before I reached her home.
Fear. Anxiety. Unhappiness.
My pace quickened immediately.
Outside the door, her emotions brushed wildly against my senses—raw, and unsteady.
My feelings got the better of me, and before I could think anything of it, I twisted the door knob and entered the house without knocking.
They were in the living room.
Amara sat on the sofa, head bowed, hands clenched in her lap. Her grandmother stood over her, torn between frustration and worry.
Immediately after arriving, Amara's emotions calmed by bits. And I felt her anxiety settling into something calmer.
Even before Zora could notice me, she lifted her head and glanced at me.
As soon as I looked upon her face, my world tilted.
Her face was streaked with fresh tears.
A sharp pain immediately speared through my chest.
I crossed the room without thinking, dropped into a crouch in front of her and took her trembling hands into mine.
She was shaking. Every part of her was shaking.
When I lifted my eyes to meet her gaze, I froze. I had never seen her look so broken.
"Oh, goddess," Zora cried. "Amara, don't cry…"
I raised my hand and wiped a stray tear from her cheek gently.
"Please," I murmured. "Don't cry."
I had faced war. Bloodshed. Loss.
And yet, none of it compared to this. In the twenty-eight years of my life, I had never felt as anxious as I did at that instance.
I gently pulled her into my arms and embraced her.
Time stalled. And for a moment no one moved, it was as if we were stuck in a time frame.
When she finally calmed, we sat together.
"The full moon is tomorrow," Zora explained softly. "I wanted her to understand what that meant."
Amara's voice was barely audible. "Do I… have to shift? I don't want to."
I exhaled a mouthful of air and tightened my grip around her hands. "Why not?"
She looked at her grandmother, and then at me. "I don't want to lose control. I don't want others…I don't want to be around others."
I wanted to press for more explanation. But knowing her, it was already a great feat that she had disclosed that much to us.
"Do I really have to shift? Can't I prevent it?" She asked again.
"No," I said quietly. "You cannot stop it."
Her shoulders slumped defeatedly.
"If you resist," I continued, rubbing the back of her hand gently, "that is how you lose control."
Her expression darkened. She lowered her gaze again and tried to free herself from my grip.
But I held on even tighter.
"If you must lose control," I said, lowering my voice, "would you rather do it beside me?"
Her eyes flew back to mine.
"Just you and me," I promised. "I will not leave you. And I will show you something beautiful—something you can see only in your wolf form."
Hope flickered in her expression. And the dark expressions she wore slowly faded.
"But I could hurt you."
I didn't answer immediately, instead, I reached out and brushed the few strands of hair over her eye, behind her ear.
We stared into each other's eyes. And in hers, I saw my reflection—the reflection of a man who was slowly becoming smitten…if not smitten already.
Despite the seriousness in her face, I laughed. "I am not so easily hurt, Amara."
Something about the way that came out sounded arrogant, but it was just me speaking the truth.
My wolf, Vetustus, was ancient, it was one of the strongest warrior wolves to ever exist. In strength, and in this era, I had no rival.