Willowfang: The Moonlit Treaty

Chapter 5 - Breaking Point

Anika -

A roar of laughter echoed sharply down the narrow service hall, heat wafting from the kitchen as I stormed past it. The sound fueling my fury as it ricochets off the walls like a mocking taunt.

With both hands, I shoved the heavy back door open. It swung wide, slamming against the outside wall with a resounding crash. The laughter abruptly cut off, replaced by the sound of two tuxedoed waiters fumbling to conceal their crime. One quickly waved away the smoke hanging in the air, while the other hid the glow of the smoldering buds on the ground with his polished shoe.

“What are you doing out here?” I demanded, my voice as sharp as a whip. I scanned the back alley for any other offenders but, thankfully, it was just the two of them.

=“I-I was just finishing up taking out the trash…” One waiter stammered, grabbing the trash bags at his feet with shaking hands. His companion, pale as a sheet, fumbled with a metallic tray, holding it like a shield.

“Just get back inside. Now!” I snapped, pinching the bridge of my nose in exasperation.

They didn’t need to be told twice. The pair scurried past me, their polished loafers skidding against the tile as they disappeared through the door. I let out a long, steadying breath before turning and pulling the door shut with more force than necessary.

The evening wasn’t going according to plan, and I had yet to have even a moment to enjoy the so-called celebration.

I strode back toward the banquet hall, my feet aching from the relentless pass I’ve maintained in these unforgiving heels. It felt like my attention was being yanked in twenty-seven different directions at once.

First, the staff—this was the fifth smoke break I’d caught tonight. Then there was the frantic pastry chef, the misplaced cart, and the baffling disappearance of napkins no one seemed able to explain. On top of that, my warriors were dangerously close to testing the limits of this new peace treaty, requiring constant surveillance.

But above all, my most pressing task was personally thanking each Willowclaw guest. I was already planning the numerous thank-you cards I’d send afterward to reinforce my gratitude. It was a delicate balancing act—projecting humility after months of fiercely negotiating for every resource and permit to secure the supply routes Hollowfang’s land desperately needed.

As I stepped back into the banquet hall, the shift in atmosphere hit me like a tangible force. The Willowclaw guests lingered in tight clusters, their low voices and stiff smiles failing to mask the tension in their shoulders.

I couldn’t blame them—they were outnumbered and boxed in on every side, with eyes watching their every move. Inviting Willowclaw to our Full Moon Ceremony—the most sacred, primal gathering of our kind—was a risk that many in my pack had vehemently opposed. We were at their strongest during the full moon, our instincts sharp and our wolves just at the surface. The centuries of animosity, blood, and death between our packs was begging for a disaster.

It was a dangerous gamble, but one we need to take. We had to expose ourselves in a way so stark and unforgiving that Willowclaw had no choice but to trust us. And if we were to truly build a bridge with Willowclaw, we had to start trusting them as well.

Still, the air felt taut, as if one wrong word or misstep could snap the delicate peace I had crafted. Or maybe that was just my anxiety speaking.

I let out a breath and straightened my shoulders. If there was going to be a disaster tonight, it wouldn’t be because of lack of effort.

I immediately went back to work tapping the shoulder of an older man I recognized—Elder Gregory of Willowclaw. Like all the Elders and important figures of the Willowclaw I had memorized their names and appearance. He was a rounder man, his bow tie pulled tight around his neck, a pair of spectacles perched precariously on his nose.

“Thank you for allowing Hollowfang to share our Full Moon Ceremony with you. We’re honored to have one of Willowclaw’s elders here. ” I said gently, outstretching my hand to shake his. The old man smiled, his eyes crinkling as he grasped my fingers in his palm.

“You’re very welcome,” he replied warmly, patting my hand. “And who is your mate?” he asked, lifting his thick eyebrows.

“Oh… I don’t have a mate,” I said, keeping my voice polite. “I’m Hollowfang’s Beta.”

“Oh! You look awfully young to be a Beta. And a…” His gaze dipped briefly. My smile froze as I withdrew my hand.

“It was very nice meeting you,” I said curtly with bow, turning away before I said something I’d regret.

It was always something—too young, too weak, a woman. I couldn’t even get people to respect my position as Beta, let alone…

I didn’t know why I kept clinging to the false hope that I’d become Luna one day. Not the Luna they expected—a figurehead beside a powerful mate—but a Luna who truly led, who ran her pack on her own terms.

My heels clicked sharply on the marble floor as I stepped away from Elder Gregory. My gaze swept the banquet hall—and there, at the edge of the room, I spotted Alpha Magnus pouring something from a flask into a glass of punch.

He took a sip and walked away, leaving the cup unattended. Just sitting there. Where any child could mistake it for juice.

My teeth clenched. I should have figured it had been too long since an incident occurred. And Alpha Magnus, as always, was half drunk and a walking train wreck.

I grabbed a glass of wine from a passing tray and downed it like a shot.

As I turned, a shoulder bumped harshly into mine, knocking me back a step. Alpha Corvin, towered over me, straightening his black suit as he blinked like he hadn’t seen me here.

“Better watch where you’re going Beta. That’s how accidents happen.” His words a warning, shaded in condescension.

He had been sneaking in snide comments like this all night, just loud enough for me to catch them—mocking the decor, sneering about the food, and at one point, stopping me to arrogantly point out the missing waiters as if I hadn’t already been handling it.

He always tried to project the perfect image of a peaceful, empathetic alpha, the kind who sympathized with Hollowfang’s struggles. But I’d seen through his act long ago. It was funny, really, that he seemed so careful to maintain his mask with everyone else, but when it came to me, he didn’t bother hiding his disdain.

The only reason he’d agreed to this peace treaty was to show he was better than us. To prove, in front of both packs, that Hollowfang wasn’t worth the effort it would take to fight. And I was the only one who saw it for what it was—a cheap display of his arrogance.

He was exactly the kind of person I despised. Arrogant, condescending, and a hypocrite to his core.

And his son had inherited every one of those qualities.

I brushed off the encounter, rubbing my shoulder but I had barely taken a step when the moon shifted—perfectly aligning within the oval dome of the glass ceiling. Moonlight spilled across the hall, casting everything in a cold, silver glow.

I hadn’t realized it was already at its peak.

And then—just as the light touched my skin—I felt it.

Something wrong.

I froze. My body went still as something snapped deep in my chest, a searing, magnetic pull yanking me forward. My fingers trembled. The wine glass slipped and shattered on the marble floor, its sound distant beneath the roaring in my ears.

My eyes locked across the room—and landed on the last person I ever wanted to feel on the other end of a bond.

But my wolf didn’t care.

She surged to the surface, memorizing every detail—his almond-shaped eyes, the slope of his nose, the broad set of his shoulders.

Shit.

I stumbled back, bumping into shoulders and elbows. I had to get out of the banquet hall. I crashed into a large oak door, spilling to the foyer. And I broke into a full sprint.