Rejected by the Past, Claimed by the Ruthless Alpha

Chapter 15: Crown of Ashes

The invitation arrived with a blood-red wax seal and the scent of old power.

Kael’s jaw clenched the moment he read it.

“The Council of Alphas wants to meet you,” he said, handing it to Aria.

She read the calligraphy slowly.

Luna Aria Vale, of Stormfang.

Your presence is requested. Or consequences will follow.

She looked up. “They’re summoning me? Not you?”

Kael’s mouth was a thin, hard line. “They’re testing you. Seeing if you’ll bow.”

“And if I don’t?”

Kael stepped closer, his voice a low growl. “Then I burn the council to the ground.”

They traveled by escort the next morning four guards, Jace, and Kael never more than five steps from Aria’s side.

The council chamber sat atop the Frostfang mountains, ancient and carved into white stone. Inside, twelve thrones circled the pit.

Eleven were filled.

One sat empty.

Aria walked in, wearing the black Stormfang cloak Kael had draped around her shoulders, her chin lifted high despite the cold glares.

A female Alpha sneered. “This is the Luna?”

“She looks like a rogue,” another spat. “You sure you didn’t just mate a charity case, Kael?”

Aria didn’t flinch.

But Kael stepped forward, a deadly smile on his face.

“She’s the reason your Beta didn’t bleed out on the last battlefield,” he said. “And the reason you’re not getting dragged out of that chair.”

Silence.

Aria stepped to the center, voice clear.

“I’m not here for your approval,” she said. “I’m here because I’ve earned the right to stand where you sit.”

One of the older Alphas raised a brow. “You think because you carry an Alpha’s mark, you deserve power?”

“No,” she said, eyes glowing. “I deserve power because I survived every attempt to destroy me and came out stronger.”

A murmur rolled through the chamber.

One Alpha, the youngest of the circle, leaned forward. “And if the prophecy is true?” he asked quietly. “If you’re the Luna that brings the crown of ashes?”

Aria stepped closer to him.

“Then I’ll wear it.”

Later, in their temporary chamber, Kael poured her a drink, then watched her across the table with a wild, unreadable look in his eyes.

“You scared them,” he said.

“Good.”

“I’ve never wanted to bend someone over a war table so badly in my life,” he muttered.

She smirked. “I’m still in my council clothes, Alpha.”

“I’ll rip them off,” he growled.

She came to him, sat in his lap, and whispered against his lips, “Then do it.”

They made love with the storm outside roaring like the ancestors were watching.

And maybe they were.

Because that night, as Kael slept with her curled in his arms, Aria dreamt of fire.

Of a battlefield.

Of a crown made of bones and flame.

And when she woke, panting, sweating, heart racing

There was blood on her hands.

And a voice whispering:

“Only the broken can rule.”