Seven
1465 Words
By the time the sun had set, the Packhouse had transformed.
The halls were filled with tension, thick and suffocating. Omegas moved swiftly through the corridors, their gazes lowered, their hands occupied with trays of food and bottles of aged whiskey, preparing for the arrival of the council.
Selene had been assigned to the main dining hall, where Damian would be hosting the gathering.
Where she would be at his side.
She tugged at the sleeves of the simple black dress she had been given to wear, a garment that was a far cry from the silks and furs she had once adorned as Luna. The neckline was modest, the fabric plain, but it was the best she had worn in two years. A reminder that tonight, she was not just an Omega.
She was something far more dangerous.
A weapon.
Selene stood just outside the grand dining room, her heart steady as she listened to the murmurs of warriors stationed nearby.
“The council’s early,” one of them muttered.
“They’re worried about Killian,” another replied. “They think he’s here to challenge Damian.”
Selene stiffened.
So the rumors had already spread.
Good.
She inhaled deeply before pushing through the double doors, stepping into the space she had once ruled.
The dining hall was illuminated by the warm glow of chandeliers, the long mahogany table set with silver and crystal. A fire burned in the massive stone hearth, casting flickering shadows against the deep wooden walls.
And at the head of the table, seated in the Alpha’s chair, was Damian.
He was dressed in black, his sharp features unreadable as he sipped from his glass of whiskey. He looked calm, in control, but Selene knew better.
She knew him better.
This was a man who never let his emotions show unless he wanted them to be seen.
A man who knew his power was being questioned.
Lilith sat beside him, draped in a deep red gown, her dark hair twisted into an elegant coil. She barely spared Selene a glance as she entered, but Selene caught the way her fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass, tension hiding beneath the surface.
Lilith was worried.
That made two of them.
Selene approached the table, keeping her posture measured.
Damian’s gaze flickered to her as she reached his side. “You remember your place.”
It wasn’t a compliment. It was a test.
Selene lowered her gaze slightly—just enough to appear obedient, just enough to mask the fire burning inside her. “Of course, Alpha.”
Lilith smirked at her response, but Selene caught the flicker of suspicion in her violet eyes.
She wasn’t the only one paying attention.
The heavy doors swung open behind her, and the air in the room shifted.
The council had arrived.
A group of five elders strode into the room, their expressions solemn, their presence commanding. These were the wolves who had the power to challenge an Alpha, to strip him of his title if they deemed him unfit to lead.
Selene studied them carefully as they took their seats.
Killian had been right.
They weren’t just here to advise Damian.
They were here to judge him.
Damian greeted them with a smooth nod, his expression betraying nothing. “Elders. It’s been a long time since we’ve had the pleasure of hosting you.”
The eldest of the group, a wolf named Garrick, leaned forward, his gray eyes sharp. “We would not be here unless it was necessary.”
Damian’s grip on his glass tightened slightly.
Selene’s pulse quickened.
This is it.
The beginning of the end.
She took a slow breath, steadying herself.
She had a role to play.
She just had to make sure she played it well.
A thick silence settled over the dining hall as the council members took their seats. The air was heavy with unspoken tension, each wolf in the room acutely aware of the power struggle brewing beneath the surface.
Selene kept her posture neutral, hands resting lightly at her sides, but inside, she was bracing herself. She could feel it—the weight of what was about to unfold.
The council was not here to celebrate Damian’s rule.
They were here to question it.
And she was here to make sure they did.
Damian poured himself another glass of whiskey, his expression unreadable as he finally spoke. “I assume you didn’t travel all this way just to enjoy our hospitality.”
Garrick, the eldest of the council, leaned forward, folding his hands together. “No, Alpha. We did not.”
Selene kept her breathing steady, her focus locked on the conversation.
“We have heard troubling reports,” Garrick continued. “Whispers that a challenge to your rule is forming within your own walls.”
Damian’s expression didn’t change. “Rumors have a way of twisting the truth.”
“Perhaps,” Garrick allowed. “But there is one name that continues to surface in these rumors. One we did not expect to hear.”
Selene knew what was coming before he said it.
“Killian Blackwood.”
The name sent a ripple through the room, but Damian remained motionless. If the mention of his late Alpha’s son rattled him, he didn’t show it.
Lilith, however, did.
Selene saw the way her grip tightened on her glass, the way her gaze flickered—quick, sharp—toward Damian as if waiting for his reaction.
Interesting.
Damian finally exhaled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before answering. “Killian is a warrior. A trained fighter. He returned home for reasons of his own, but he has made no move to challenge me.”
Garrick arched a brow. “And yet, his father was the rightful Alpha before you.”
A slow, deliberate pause.
“Would he not have been next in line?”
Selene could feel it now.
The subtle, careful way the council was pressing him. Not outright accusing him of anything, but leading him to the place where he would have to defend himself.
Damian leaned back in his chair. “Killian was too young when his father died. The pack needed leadership. I stepped in to provide it.”
Another pause.
Another calculated silence.
And then, Garrick asked the question Selene had been waiting for.
“Tell me, Damian.” The elder’s voice was quiet, smooth, but full of weight. “Do you believe Alpha Blackwood’s death was truly an accident?”
The room froze.
Selene held her breath.
Lilith went rigid beside Damian.
And for the first time since this conversation had begun—
Damian hesitated.
It was a fraction of a second, but it was there. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze before he masked it behind indifference.
“That was investigated long ago,” he said evenly. “There was no foul play.”
Garrick didn’t blink. “That was not my question.”
Selene’s pulse quickened.
This was it.
The seed of doubt.
Killian had told her to listen, to watch, to wait for the right moment.
And now it was here.
She took a slow breath, steadying herself. Then, carefully—so carefully—she let her voice slip into the conversation.
“I always thought it was strange,” she murmured.
Every head at the table turned to her.
Lilith’s eyes narrowed.
Damian’s expression didn’t change, but she could feel the tension radiating off of him.
Garrick lifted a brow. “Strange, how?”
Selene kept her voice quiet, thoughtful. “That the former Alpha died so suddenly. That no one in the pack ever truly questioned it. It always seemed… convenient.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
She had just implicated Damian.
Not outright. Not in a way that could be used against her.
But in a way that would linger.
A whisper of doubt that could not be unheard.
Damian finally set his glass down with a soft clink. “Selene.”
A warning.
A quiet, restrained threat.
She lifted her chin slightly, keeping her expression innocent. “Apologies, Alpha. I was merely thinking aloud.”
Garrick studied her for a long moment.
Then he turned back to Damian.
“It is troubling,” he admitted. “Killian’s return will bring questions, whether you welcome them or not.”
Damian’s jaw flexed. “Killian is no threat to this pack.”
Garrick leaned back. “We shall see.”
Selene could almost taste the shift in the room.
The first crack in Damian’s control had been made.
Now, all she had to do was wait for it to spread.
She had done what Killian had asked.
She had started the war.
And there was no turning back now.
- Writer
