I Never Meant to Be His Luna

Chapter 22 – waiting for the verdict

The worst part wasn’t the speaking.

It was the waiting.

They put Hollow Ridge in a side room with too-bright lights and bad art on the walls, the kind of generic space meant to look neutral and only succeeding at feeling like no one belonged there.

Atlas paced. Elara sat in a plastic chair with her ankles neatly crossed, hands loose in her lap, calm like only someone who’d seen too many storms could be. Isolde had commandeered a corner and was quietly laying out charms on the low table, muttering under her breath.

Cassian leaned against the wall near the door, arms folded, eyes on Lyra as if watching a pressure gauge.

She sat on the edge of another chair, elbows on her knees, hands clasped so tight her knuckles ached.

The wards hummed distantly at the back of her mind. Home felt very far and very close at once.

“Drink,” Elara said, passing her a paper cup.

Lyra took it, sniffed. Tea. Of course. “If this is some calming blend, I’m offended on principle.”

“It’s just hot water and leaves,” Elara said mildly. “The principle can survive that.”

Lyra huffed and took a sip. Her stomach was too knotted to care what it tasted like.

“Council’s taking their time,” Cassian said. “They don’t like being challenged on record.”

“Good,” Isolde muttered. “Let them choke a bit.”

Atlas stopped pacing long enough to look at Lyra. “You didn’t have to go that hard,” he said. Not a rebuke. An observation.

“Yes, I did,” she said. “You brought me here to tell the truth. Sugarcoating kind of ruins the effect.”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “You realize you just gave half this building a new script. Some will hate you for it.”

“They already did,” she said. “At least now they have better reasons.”

Cassian pushed off the wall and came to crouch in front of her, forearms braced on his knees.

“You did exactly what we needed,” he said quietly. “Silas wanted you rattled and vague. You were…neither.”

“I was shaking,” she pointed out.

“Inside,” he said. “Outside you were terrifying.”

That pulled a weak laugh out of her. “Good. Maybe they’ll think twice before trying to drag another wolf into a circle like that.”

Silence settled again, broken only by Isolde’s rattling charms and Atlas’s soft pacing.

Lyra stared at the floor. “What happens if they vote with him?” she asked finally. “Worst case.”

Atlas didn’t flinch. “They can recommend sanctions. Try to strip us of voting power. Push other packs to cut ties. In theory, they can order us to hand you over.”

“In theory,” Elara echoed. “Not in practice.”

Cassian’s eyes stayed on Lyra’s. “We’re not opening our gates to anyone who comes for you with that paper in their teeth,” he said. “Council decree or not.”

Warmth and dread tangled in her chest. “You willing to go rogue-pack over me?”

“Not rogue,” Elara said calmly. “Just…less obedient.”

Atlas’s gaze went flinty. “They’re not the only power that matters anymore. They forget that.”

Lyra looked between them. “You’re all very casual about the idea of starting a political war.”

“We already started one the day we called you Luna’s partner on record,” Isolde said dryly. “This is just the formalities catching up.”

The door clicked.

Everyone turned.

A junior clerk stood there, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “The Council is ready to reconvene,” he said. “They request your presence.”

Request. Not order. Small word, but it made Lyra’s shoulders ease half an inch.

Atlas straightened his jacket. Elara smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her skirt. Isolde swept her charms back into the bag with a flick of her fingers.

Cassian stood and held out a hand.

Lyra stared at it for a beat, then took it.

His grip was warm, steady. Not possessive. Anchoring.

“You walk in there as the same wolf who just made them shut up and listen,” he said, voice low. “No matter what they say, they don’t get to take that away.”

Her wolf lifted its head at the certainty in his tone.

“Right,” she said. “Let’s go hear whether the old gods of paperwork approve of us.”

Cassian snorted. “If they don’t, we’ll live.”

They stepped back into the corridor. The air felt heavier now, carrying more eyes, more whispers. Lyra let the noise slide off her.

At the doors to the chamber, she paused, feeling the faint brush of Hollow Ridge’s wards all the way from home, thrumming in her bones like a distant drum.

Whatever waited on the other side of those doors, she wasn’t the girl they’d once broken here.

She was the woman who’d just told them exactly what she thought.

And this time, she wasn’t walking in alone.