The Lycan’s Witch Luna

Four

Kaiden

The council room loomed like a cavern of judgment, its rough-hewn stone walls glowing brightly in the morning sunlight. I stepped inside, the air heavy with the scent of old wood and wax.

“Welcome Alpha,” a voice spoke as I stepped in.

I nodded, walking further into the room.

In there was a massive oak table which dominated the center, scarred from years of heated debates, its surface etched with claw marks from less controlled alphas. High-backed chairs, worn but sturdy, circled it, each occupied by a council member whose eyes bored into me.

The ceiling arched into shadows, where cobwebs clung to ancient beams, swaying slightly in the draft. Iron sconces flickered, casting jagged shadows that danced across the floor like restless spirits.

A single window, narrow and stained with age, let in a sliver of moonlight, painting the room in hues of silver and gray. The atmosphere felt alive, charged with tension, as if the walls themselves held the pack’s secrets.

Every creak of the floorboards under my boots echoed, amplifying my unease. It wasn’t just a room—it was a crucible, where decisions forged the pack’s fate, and that night, it felt like it was closing in on me, waiting for my next misstep.

Before me were the elders of the council—four men and a woman, sitting around the massive oak table. They all had black cloaks with grim expressions on their faces. They all had their eyes on me as I stared back at them. The room was getting tense, and I wondered how long the silence ringing in my ears would continue.

And then, Kristopher, the eldest of them spoke again.

“I’m sure your beta must have filled you in on what happened?”

I clenched my jaws, and my answer was a single nod.

“What do you suggest?” He asked, raising his eyebrow at me.

I knew that this was a test. And I hated that.

“I haven’t decided anything yet,” I replied coldly.

Kristopher sighed and turned to his fellow councilmen. My hands were twitching on either side of my hands. I was ready to leave. Maybe confront the Alpha pg the Ironfang and show him that I meant business.

“What are you going to do about the witches that are Winthoven?” Veronica, the only lady at the table asked.

My eyes darted to her, her pale face poking through the hood of her cloak, her blue eyes staring right back at me.

“I told you, I will do something about it soon,” I replied, balling my palms into fists. “I’ve told you how much I hate being questioned.”

My last sentence barely hid my irritation with their shenanigans.

“Well. There’s no need for that anymore,” another elder spoke.

I raised my eyebrow in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Last night, while you were tormenting the Ironfang, something else destroyed them,” he replied. “I’m guessing it’s another pack that had been plotting also.”

My eyebrow was still cranked as I stared at all of them in confusion.

“Why didn’t you start with that?” I demanded, my nails biting into my palms.

Nobody said a word. Suddenly, the council room had grown quiet. I could feel the rage burning in my chest. Something dangerous happened last night while I was in a haze.

“We are not done with this!” I yelled before storming out of the council room.

I was only angry at them. I was also angry that another pack had destroyed the witches before I got the chance to do that. I wanted to destroy them with my bare hands for what their kind had done to me. But now, my chance of revenge has evaporated.

Outside the hall, Alex was leaning against with his arms folded—his trademark pose. He leaned off as he saw me.

“That's a familiar look,” he teased.

“Get the cars ready,” I ordered. “We are moving.”

He looked at me, the amusement on his face replaced with surprise.

“Where are we heading?” He asked.

I was already walking away but halted and turned to him.

“Winthoven.”

***

The engine growled as Alex steered the SUV down the winding forest road, the dense trees blurring past. I sat in the passenger seat, my jaw tight, the council’s words still burning in my chest. The leather seat squeaked under me as I shifted, trying to shake the rage that clung like damp moss. Alex glanced my way, his hands steady on the wheel, but I could feel his curiosity itching to break the silence.

“Alright, spill it,” he said finally, his voice light but edged with concern. “What happened there? You stormed out like they set your tail on fire.”

I snorted, staring out at the passing pines.

“They’re playing games, as usual. Kristopher grilled me about the Ironfang’s threats, testing if I’d snap. Then Veronica brought up the Winthoven witches, pushing me to act. I told them I’d handle it, but—” I paused, my nails digging into my palms. “They dropped the real bomb last. The witches are gone. Wiped out last night while I was… out of it. Another pack beat me to it.”

Alex’s grip tightened on the wheel, his eyes widening.

“Gone? The whole coven? That’s—” He shook his head, whistling low. “That’s insane. Who’d have the guts to take out Winthoven’s witches? And why didn’t they lead with that?”

“Exactly,” I growled, my voice rough. “They let me stew, knowing my chance for revenge was already ash. Those witches cursed me, Alex. I wanted to tear them apart myself, not hear some rival pack do it while I was chasing shadows.”

He shot me a sidelong glance, his usual smirk absent.

“You think the Ironfang did it? Retaliation for your… full moon escapades?”

I shrugged, the thought souring my mood further.

“Maybe. Or someone else with a grudge. Either way, I’m done waiting for answers. We’re heading to Winthoven to see what’s left.”

Alex nodded, his focus back on the road. The forest thickened, the canopy swallowing the sunlight, casting dappled shadows across the windshield. My mind churned, replaying the council’s smug faces, the claw marks on that oak table, the word revenge pulsing like a heartbeat. I’d been robbed of my reckoning, and it stung worse than the chains that usually bound me.

Suddenly, Alex slammed on the brakes, the SUV lurching to a stop. My hand shot to the dashboard, steadying myself.

“What the—”

“Bodies,” he said, his voice sharp, pointing ahead. Two figures lay sprawled across the path, motionless under the dim light filtering through the trees.

I cursed under my breath, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Stay sharp,” I muttered, stepping out. The air hit me—cool, laced with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid bite of smoke. Alex followed, his boots crunching on the gravel as we approached.

Two women, young, maybe nineteen or twenty. One had curly blonde hair, her face pale and still. The other, with chestnut brown hair, stirred weakly, her arm twitching.

My eyes narrowed—she looked familiar, though I couldn’t place her. Her clothes were torn, streaked with dirt and ash, like she’d crawled through hell.

Alex knelt beside them, checking their pulses.

“They’re alive, but barely. Dehydrated, maybe in shock. We need to get them water, maybe a healer.”

I crossed my arms, my instinct screaming to keep moving.

“We don’t have time for strays, Alex. Winthoven’s waiting.”

He shot me a look, half-disbelief, half-challenge.

“They’ll die if we leave them. You really gonna walk away?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the one with chestnut brown hair lifted, her eyes fluttering open. Green eyes, vivid even in her weakened state, locked onto mine.

My breath caught, a jolt running through me like a lightning strike. I knew those eyes. Last night, in the haze of my curse, I chased her through the woods. She had fought back, weak magic sparking from her hands, defiance in her gaze.

Her hand reached out, trembling, pleading for help. I froze, my heart pounding.

Then, like a whisper from the void, a single word echoed in my mind.

Mate.