Marked By The Alpha

Chapter Nine – The Council’s Gaze

The council chamber loomed before Ivy like a cavern carved from stone and shadow. Torches lined the walls, their flames casting long, restless fingers of light across banners embroidered with the sigil of Arthur’s line—a black wolf with crimson eyes, fangs bared.

Ivy’s heart hammered as the heavy doors groaned open. Guards flanked her on either side, their expressions stern, their steps echoing like a warning drumbeat. At the far end of the chamber, Arthur sat in the high-backed chair of the Alpha, regal and merciless, a predator draped in silk and power.

He rose as she entered, and the room seemed to shift with his movement.

“Behold,” Arthur’s voice carried, deep and commanding, filling every shadowed corner. “Our Luna.”

Gasps, murmurs, the scrape of chairs. Dozens of eyes fixed on Ivy—elders with lined faces, warriors with scarred hands, women with calculating gazes. Their stares pierced her, weighing her, measuring her worth.

Arthur extended a hand. Forcing her steps steady, Ivy crossed the chamber and took it. His grip was firm, possessive, as though reminding every wolf present that she was bound to him, body and soul.

He seated her beside him, his hand never leaving hers. “Tonight, we speak of the pack’s future,” he said. “And she will hear it. She must, for her role is now bound to ours.”

Ivy’s throat tightened, but she kept her face calm, her expression unreadable.

Breathe, Selra whispered. Do not falter. They must not see your fear.

---

An elder with a crooked spine and a voice like gravel spoke first. “Alpha Arthur, you claim the Moon Goddess herself blessed this bond. But some question why Ivy, daughter of a fallen pack, should be raised so swiftly.”

The air thickened. Arthur’s smile was razor-sharp. “Do you doubt fate, Elder Thorne?”

The old man lowered his gaze, murmuring something about loyalty. But Ivy caught the flicker of unease in other council members’ eyes. They were not all convinced.

Arthur turned his gaze on her, his tone deceptively soft. “Speak, my Luna. Tell them why you sit here at my side.”

The words twisted like a blade. Ivy’s pulse stuttered, but she forced her lips to part. “Because fate chose it,” she said evenly, though inside her soul writhed. “Because the bond cannot be denied.”

Arthur’s smile widened, his thumb stroking over her knuckles, a lover’s gesture that felt more like shackles. The council murmured approval, though Ivy saw suspicion still smoldering in a few eyes.

---

As the meeting stretched on, talk shifted to territory, alliances, and looming threats. Names were spoken of rogues encroaching on borders, whispers of unrest in neighboring packs. Ivy listened, silent, her mind working furiously.

Hear them, Selra urged. Learn their fractures. Knowledge is a weapon.

Then a voice cut through the chamber, sharp as a blade.

“What of the prisoner?”

Ivy’s head snapped up. The speaker was a warrior with golden hair and cold, hard eyes. He stood, fists clenched. “The one you dragged from the northern woods. Is he still alive?”

Her breath caught. Prisoner. Northern woods. Could it be—?

Arthur’s eyes flickered dangerously. “That matter is mine to decide.”

“Forgive me, Alpha,” the warrior said, bowing his head though his jaw clenched. “But our men ask questions. Some whisper he is a spy. Others… that he may be of noble blood.”

Arthur’s smile never faltered, but his grip on Ivy’s hand tightened until she nearly winced. “Rumors will rot the core of any pack. Speak of them again, and I will tear your tongue from your mouth.”

Silence fell like an ax.

Ivy’s chest heaved, her mind racing. A prisoner. Could it be Michael? Her brother, her tether to freedom? The thought alone lit something fierce within her.

Arthur leaned close, his lips brushing her ear though his words were for her alone. “Do not ask. Do not hope. What lives or dies here is mine to decide.”

But he had revealed too much. And now, nothing could stop the wildfire burning through her veins.

---

When the council dismissed, Arthur led her from the chamber, his arm locked around hers.

“You did well,” he said smoothly. “They saw your strength, your obedience. In time, they will kneel to you as they kneel to me.”

Ivy kept her face still, but inside, Selra’s growl rattled her bones.

Obedience? the wolf spat. We are no one’s chained hound. Let him think he’s won. We’ll cut his leash soon enough.

Arthur guided her down a quiet corridor, where the torches burned low. He stopped suddenly, pulling her against his chest, his gaze searching hers.

“You belong to me,” he said, his tone velvet and steel all at once. “Say it.”

Her breath hitched. The mark on her skin throbbed, pulling her toward him against her will. Every part of her screamed to resist—but she forced the words through gritted teeth.

“I belong to you.”

Arthur’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He kissed her forehead like a man sealing a victory, then released her. “Good. Sleep well, my Luna. Tomorrow, you will stand before the pack in the great square. They will see you, and their faith will be sealed.”

He left her trembling in the shadows, her hands curled into fists.

---

Back in her chamber, Ivy paced the floor, her mind aflame.

A prisoner, she whispered to Selra. It has to be Michael.

Then we must move quickly, Selra answered. The Well of Echoes may free us, but if Arthur suspects your intent, he’ll kill Michael first. We need both a plan and allies.

Allies? Ivy scoffed bitterly. Everyone here bends to him. Mira is the only one who dares help.

Then she is enough, Selra said. Even a spark can burn a forest if the wind carries it.

Ivy sank onto the bed, pressing her hands to her face. Three nights until the full moon. Three nights to hold her mask in place, to endure Arthur’s games, to keep the council from sniffing out her secret.

But now there was more at stake. If Michael was alive, she couldn’t just free herself. She had to save him, too.

---

The night deepened, silence wrapping around her chamber. Ivy rose, stepping to the window. Beyond the walls, the forest stretched dark and endless, the northern woods calling like a siren.

Somewhere out there, the Well of Echoes waited. Somewhere in the dungeons below, Michael might still breathe.

Ivy’s fists clenched, her eyes burning with defiance.

Arthur thought the council’s approval had bound her.

He thought fear kept her still.

But he was wrong.

Because Ivy was no longer waiting for freedom to find her.

She was going to take it.