# CHAPTER 37: THE DINNER
The invitation comes at noon.
Formal. Embossed. Heavy paper.
**The Elder Council requests the presence of Alpha Alexander Pierce and Luna Alana Pierce for the Centennial Celebration Dinner. Hosted by Elder Marcus Pierce.**
Alana stares at the card. Reads it twice. Three times.
*Centennial Celebration. A hundred years of the pack. And Marcus is hosting.*
"This is a trap."
Alexander stands by the window. Rigid. Fists clenched.
"It's tradition. The dinner happens every decade. But usually..." He turns. "Usually the sitting Alpha hosts."
*Not Marcus. Not after what he's done.*
"Then why is he hosting?"
Alexander's jaw tightens.
"Because he's still an Elder. Technically. The council hasn't stripped his titles." He pauses. "And because he wants to prove he still has power."
*Power. Always about power with him.*
"We don't have to go."
"We do." Alexander's voice is heavy. "If we don't, it's an insult to the council. To the pack. It would look like weakness."
*Weakness. The one thing we can't afford.*
"When is it?"
"Tonight. Seven o'clock."
*Tonight. No time to prepare. No time to plan.*
"Then we go." Alana sets down the card. "But we're careful."
---
The rest of the day passes in a blur.
Vivian helps her dress. A gown. Deep blue. Empire waist. Hiding the barely-visible curve of her belly. But emphasizing it at the same time.
*Pregnant. On display. For him to see.*
"You look beautiful." Vivian's voice is soft. Worried. "But you don't have to do this."
"I know."
"Alexander could go alone. Send a message."
*He could. But then I'm hiding. I'm afraid. That's not who I am anymore.*
"No. I'm going. I'm the Luna. This is my place."
Vivian sighs. Adjusts Alana's hair.
"Just... be careful. That man gives me the creeps."
*The creeps. An understatement.*
"I will."
---
Seven o'clock.
The mansion's formal dining room. Alana has never seen it like this.
Candles. Dozens of them. Silver candelabras. Crystal glasses. White linen. A table long enough for thirty people.
And at the head—Marcus Pierce.
He stands as they enter. Smiling. Benevolent. A perfect host.
*Monster in gentleman's clothing.*
"Alexander. Alana. Welcome."
The room is full. Elders in formal robes. Pack members in suits and gowns. Everyone watching. Everyone waiting.
*This isn't just dinner. This is theater. And Marcus is the director.*
Alexander guides Alana to her seat. To his right. Close to the head. Close to Marcus.
*Too close.*
She sits. Alexander beside her. His hand finds hers under the table. Squeezes.
*Together. We do this together.*
---
The courses begin.
Soup. Salad. Fish. Meat. Wine—though Alana refuses.
Marcus watches. Always watches.
The conversation flows around her. Pack business. Trade agreements. Border disputes. Normal things.
But underneath—tension. Thick. Suffocating.
*Everyone knows. What Marcus did. What Alexander is. What I am.*
No one speaks of it. But everyone knows.
Alana eats mechanically. Tastes nothing. Her eyes scan the room.
Derek sits further down the table. His eyes meet hers. Worried. A slight nod.
*I know. I'm watching.*
Gideon stands by the door. A guard. His face impassive. But his eyes track Marcus's every move.
*Good. We're not alone.*
---
The main course is served.
Roasted lamb. Vegetables. Silver platters.
Marcus stands. Raises his glass.
"If I may have your attention."
The room falls silent.
"It has been a difficult year for our pack. We have lost much. Elders. Warriors. Friends." His eyes find Alexander. "But we have also gained."
*Here it comes.*
"We have a new Alpha. A new Luna." He turns to Alana. "And soon, a new generation."
*Don't react. Don't give him anything.*
"I propose a toast." He lifts his glass higher. "To the new generation. May they be strong. Wise. And worthy of our legacy."
The room rises. Glasses raised.
"To the new generation."
Alana lifts her water glass. Takes a sip. Marcus's eyes never leave her belly.
*Predator. Stalking prey.*
Under the table, Alexander's hand crushes hers. Painful. But grounding.
*He feels it too. The danger.*
---
The dinner continues.
Dessert. Coffee. Polite conversation.
Alana smiles. Nods. Plays her part.
*The good Luna. The pregnant wife. The perfect ornament.*
Inside—rage. Boiling. Barely contained.
*This man killed my baby. Killed Alexander's father. Tortured Elena. And he sits there. Smiling. Like a king.*
She wants to scream. To shift. To tear his throat out.
*Not yet. Not here.*
The wolf stirs. Agrees.
*Patience. Our time will come.*
---
Finally. The meal ends.
Guests begin to leave. Alexander is pulled into a conversation with Elder Thorne. Derek distracts someone else.
And Alana is alone.
*No. Not alone.*
She moves toward the exit. Toward safety.
Then—his voice.
"Alana, my dear. A moment."
*Don't stop. Keep walking.*
But she stops. Turns.
Marcus stands by the fireplace. A glass of brandy in his hand. Still smiling.
*Always smiling.*
"I wanted to speak with you. Privately."
"I have nothing to say to you."
"No. But I have something to say to you."
*Walk away. Now.*
But she doesn't. Because part of her wants to know. What he knows. What he's planning.
*Information is power.*
"Make it quick."
---
Marcus approaches. Slow. Measured.
"You're glowing. Pregnancy suits you."
*Compliments. Manipulation.*
"Did you want something?"
He chuckles. Soft. Dangerously.
"Always so direct. I like that about you."
He stops. Too close. Close enough to touch.
"Your mother was the same way. Fierce. Stubborn. Beautiful."
*Don't talk about her. You don't have the right.*
"I asked you a question."
His smile widens.
"Fine. Straight to business." He leans closer. "I wanted to offer you something."
"I don't want anything from you."
"Not even the truth? About your mother? About the prophecy?"
*The truth. The one thing I want. The one thing I can't have from him.*
"You lie. About everything."
"Not about this." His voice drops. Lower. Intimate. "Your mother was special. The last true Luna of the Blackwood line. She was supposed to unite the packs. Instead, she ran. With your father."
*Blackwood. My real name.*
"Why are you telling me this?"
Marcus's eyes darken.
"Because you have a choice. Your mother made the wrong one. She died. So did your father." He pauses. "Your baby will be powerful. The prophecy says so. Many will come for her. Many will try to use her."
*Use her. Like you used everyone else.*
"Alexander will protect her."
"Will he?" Marcus tilts his head. "He couldn't protect the first one. Could he?"
*Don't. Don't go there.*
The rage surges. The wolf howls.
"Get away from me."
But Marcus doesn't move. Instead—he leans closer. His lips near her ear.
"I wonder..." His breath is hot. Unwelcome. "If you'd glow for me too."
---
The world stops.
Every muscle tenses. The wolf screams.
*Move. Attack. Kill.*
But she freezes. Caught between horror and rage.
Then—Alexander's voice.
"GET AWAY FROM HER."
He crosses the room. Faster than human. Grabs Marcus. Throws him against the wall.
Glass shatters. The room goes silent.
"Alexander—" Alana starts.
But he's not listening. His eyes are gold. His claws extend.
"You touch her again. You speak to her again. You even LOOK at her again—" He presses his forearm against Marcus's throat. "And I will kill you. I don't care about the council. I don't care about the traditions. I will END you."
Marcus gasps. Choking. But still—smiling.
"Alexander... son..."
"I am NOT your son."
---
Elders rush forward. Pulling Alexander back.
"Alpha! Control yourself! This is sacred ground!"
*Diplomacy. Rules. Everything protecting Marcus.*
Alexander releases him. Steps back. But his eyes remain gold. His claws remain extended.
"Get out."
Marcus straightens. Brushes off his jacket. Coughs.
"This is my home. My dinner. You don't give me orders."
"It's the PACK'S home. And you're no longer welcome." Alexander turns to the elders. "As Alpha, I'm invoking the Right of Exclusion. Marcus Pierce is banished from pack grounds. Effective immediately."
*Banished. Finally.*
Murmurs. Shock. But no one challenges.
The Right of Exclusion is ancient. Absolute.
Marcus's smile finally falters.
"You can't—"
"I can. I have." Alexander's voice is steel. "Leave. Or I'll have you removed. By force."
---
For a moment. No one moves.
Then Marcus laughs.
"Very well. You win this round." He walks toward the door. Pauses. Looks at Alana.
"Think about what I said. The prophecy. Your mother. The baby." His eyes glint. "We'll meet again. Soon."
And he's gone.
---
The room remains silent.
Alana trembles. The adrenaline fades. The horror remains.
*He touched me. He whispered to me. Like a lover.*
She wants to vomit. Wants to shower. Wants to scrub his words from her skin.
Alexander is at her side instantly.
"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
*No. Yes. I don't know.*
"I'm fine."
*Lie. I'm not fine.*
He pulls her close. Holds her. His body shakes with suppressed rage.
"I should have killed him."
"You will. When the time is right."
*Patience. We need patience.*
Derek appears. Face pale.
"The guards are escorting him off the property. He won't be back."
*Won't he? He said we'd meet again.*
"Good." Alexander's voice is rough. "Get Vivian. We're leaving."
---
The drive home is silent.
Alana leans against Alexander. His arm around her. Protective. Possessive.
*He's scared. I can feel it through the bond.*
*I'm scared too.*
The baby kicks. Soft. Reassuring.
*We're okay. We're together. That's what matters.*
But Marcus's words echo.
*I wonder if you'd glow for me too.*
She closes her eyes. Pushes the memory away.
*He's gone. For now.*
*But this isn't over.*
---
**END OF CHAPTER 37**
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