THE PROXY LUNA

Wing stairs

Vulcan

Vulcan was still seated on his throne two hours after Paula had left, and Liam and Maeve were still drilling him like he was some reckless teenager.

“How can…”

A knock interrupted Liam.

The head maid appeared in the doorway and bowed. "Your Grace, Lady Anna has agreed to attend the dinner."

His heart involuntarily skipped a beat.

His mother had refused to eat or even leave her room since hearing of Mike Hawthorne's death. He couldn't even bring himself to face her. The one thing she'd finally asked of him, which was saving Mike Hawthorne and his family, he'd failed to do.

He nodded once and the head maid disappeared, leaving them alone again with tension thick enough to choke on.

"Did you hear what he said?" Maeve stopped pacing and planted herself directly in front of him, hands on her hips. "This is insane."

"I heard him, Maeve."

"You can't be serious about this," she said for what had to be the tenth time. "Punishing her however you want is one thing, but making her Luna? That's diabolical, Vulcan."

Liam leaned against the table with his arms crossed, looking more worried than angry but clearly on Maeve's side. "She's the daughter of a traitor and you're putting her in a position of power. The council barely tolerated the announcement, and that was only because they're terrified of you."

Vulcan said nothing because there was nothing to say that would make them understand.

Or maybe because you really don't want to admit that you're also drawn to our mate, Dak sneered.

Fuck Dak! Could you not be on my side for once? Vulcan shot back irritatedly, hoping his wolf wasn't right.

He couldn't be right.

Vulcan looked up at Maeve and saw the frustration written all over her face, genuine concern mixed with something else he didn't want to name.

Maeve and Liam had been by his side since they were eight years old, back when his father's wife Luna Gwen treated him in the cruelest ways possible under the guise of grooming him into an heir worthy of the throne.

She certainly was bullshitting, Dak bellowed.

She definitely was. The memory of her leaving him standing in the training yard with a practice sword too heavy for his small hands, being ordered to repeat the same overhead strike until he got it perfect, was still fresh in his mind.

He'd been at it for three hours when Liam and Maeve showed up, two kids from prominent families who were supposed to be learning from the master swordsman.

Instead of ignoring him like everyone else did, like they'd been taught to because he was the bastard son nobody wanted to acknowledge, they picked up practice swords and joined him.

"Show us the move," Liam had said with that easy grin of his. "We'll do it with you."

And they had, for hours, until his arms felt like they were going to fall off and his hands were bleeding from gripping the sword too tight.

The trainer had finally let him stop, probably impressed that two noble children were willing to exhaust themselves for someone like him.

That had been the beginning of their indispensable bond. They became family.

When Luna Gwen punished him by making him stand outside in the snow for an entire night, when the frostbite crept up his fingers and toes until he couldn't feel them anymore and his lips turned blue, Liam and Maeve had been the ones who snuck out to check on him.

They couldn't stop the punishment without facing consequences themselves, but they'd brought him extra layers to wear under his clothes where Luna Gwen wouldn't see, and they'd stood with him for as long as they could before someone noticed they were gone.

He hated winter because of the snow.

Liam and Maeve were the only ones who'd cared whether he lived or died back then.

"Vulcan." Maeve's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and demanding.

"I don't love her," he said slowly. "And I don't want to marry anyone in the name of love, so Paula works just fine for what I need. She's of noble birth so the council can't object to the bond, and she'll give me legitimate heirs to secure my bloodline while I have my revenge."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "And what about her? What's her role in all this besides being a breeding vessel?"

"She'll be Luna in title only," Vulcan said, letting the coldness seep into his voice. "She'll have the position and the public respect that comes with it, but she'll suffer worse than any omega slave in this pack. She'll pay for all the crimes her father committed and I won't stop till she's ruined and left in utter wreck. I'll make sure her mother and brother yearn for death but won't find it."

Death for them felt like a luxury they didn’t deserve.

Liam released a breath and Maeve's expression relaxed, though uneasiness still danced in her eyes.

Liam shifted his weight, his face softening slightly. "What about mom? How did she take the news of Mike's death? We haven't seen her since we returned from Silvermoon."

"She's not feeling well," Vulcan said dryly. "I'm going to check on her before dinner."

They both sighed.

He'd tried everything to stop his mother from suffering more than she already had. But just when everything felt like it might return to normalcy, Silvermoon attacked and Mike was killed.

He'd heard her crying through the door more than once, soft broken sobs that made something in his chest crack and splinter.

She blamed herself for not being able to keep her promise to Mike, for not saving his daughter the way Mike had saved her all those years ago, and there was nothing he could say to make it better.

And the part that made him want to tear the entire world apart, was that he knew his mother was suffering because of him.

If he hadn't been born, if his father hadn't sensed the mate bond with her back in Silvermoon Pack, she never would have gotten pregnant.

Everything she'd endured, every scar on her face, every year she'd spent hidden away in Mike's home, every moment of suffering, it all traced back to him existing.

Maeve made a disgusted sound. "I can't believe we're going to be sharing a meal with a traitor's daughter. And on family dinner night of all nights." She looked at him with something close to betrayal in her eyes. "Can't you introduce her at a different dinner? Does it have to be tonight?"

"Better now than later."

Their family dinner happened once a week, every week without fail unless there was an emergency that required his immediate attention. It was one of the few traditions they shared together, a chance to gather and catch up on everything that had happened during the week.

After dinner he usually spent time walking through the gardens with his mother, just talking about whatever came to mind while the moon rose overhead.

It was probably the most normal thing about his life and he wasn't about to let Paula's presence ruin it permanently, which meant introducing her now and getting the worst of everyone's reactions out of the way immediately.

"Just trust Vulcan's decision," Liam said to Maeve.

Maeve rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

“Ah, I almost forgot. Our scouts made reports that the rogue leader is on the move again. They robbed two of our elders and we believe they are plotting their third attack on Dark Howl.” Liam released a heavy breath.

“They never learn, do they? Vulcan burnt a bunch of them alive in their last siege and they're still coming. The audacity of fools.” Maeve smirked.

“Let them come.” Vulcan's voice was icy cold. “I'll make sure they never live to stay in hiding. Make sure all our defense teams intensify their training.”

“Yes, your grace.” Liam bowed, respecting the authority in his voice.

"We need to get ready for dinner," Vulcan said, standing up from the throne and feeling his muscles protest from sitting in one position for too long.

"Shall we?" he said, gesturing toward the door.

They walked out of the South Wing which held the throne room, training grounds, and council chambers. They made their way toward the West Wing where their personal quarters were located. The packhouse was massive, built to house the Alpha and his family.

As they walked in silence, Vulcan's thoughts drifted back to his mother.

He'd promised himself he'd protect her, that he'd never let anyone hurt her again.

But he'd failed.

And now she was locked in her room, drowning in grief because he hadn't been fast enough.

What kind of son am I? he thought bitterly.

The question echoed in his mind, unanswered, as they reached the West Wing stairs.