'It really is them…' Luna's breath caught in her throat, eyes widening in recognition. Her body instinctively staggered back a step, heart thundering, but the rough tug of the rope stopped her short. She glanced down. Still bound.
The so-called 'thrall' holding her leash offered no sympathy, merely tightening his grip.
From the group, Rhaevos stepped forward with a slow, almost predatory grace. He circled her like a wolf assessing its prey, eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker that made her skin crawl. His voice was low, silken with mockery.
"I must say…" His gaze swept her from head to toe with no shame. "You looked ethereal in the moonlight… but under the sun?" He leaned slightly closer. "You're even more captivating."
Luna flinched, her stomach knotting.
"You just say that because she has white hair like you," Nohlan muttered with a dry snort, breaking the moment. His tone was flat, but it carried enough weight to make Rhaevos halt mid-step and shoot him a sharp look. He only chuckled, the tension cracking for a moment.
"Indeed. She and I are clearly the most striking in the pack," Rhaevos said, straightening up with an air of pride, his golden eyes glowing faintly. "Wouldn't that mean she's a perfect match for me?"
'Fit perfectly with him?' Luna's throat tightened. She didn't speak—not yet—but her fear was palpable in her wide, unblinking stare.
Suddenly, Bastiel moved. With a grunt, he grabbed a fistful of Rhaevos' hair and yanked him back. Rhaevos hit the ground with a hard thud, the impact echoing. The others tensed.
"What the fuck, Bastiel?!" Rhaevos hissed, voice distorted—deeper, darker. Luna's eyes widened as she recognized that same twisted tone from when they had been in wolf form.
His body began to shift slightly, patches of fur prickling through his skin, teeth elongating.
Bastiel just grinned, arms crossed. "Look, the pretty boy's finally getting riled up."
A low, dangerous growl escaped Rhaevos' throat.
But before it escalated, Vaelen stepped between them like a thundercloud rolling in. "Enough." His voice was calm but laced with warning.
"You're in the presence of the chief. If you want to settle this, take it to the Pit and fight until one of you can't stand." He paused, voice dropping. "But do that, and you'll both be banned from hunting or any other activity for a week."
'The pit?'
The silence that followed was absolute.
Rhaevos' transformation halted. His skin began to return to normal as he pulled himself up, glaring but saying nothing more. Bastiel scoffed and turned away, clearly irritated but subdued for now.
Luna glanced toward the chief. Tyrnhael's eyes were on Vaelen—pride evident in his features. Luna could already sense the dynamic among these males, the hierarchy and unspoken tension. What she couldn't piece together yet was why she was being shown all of this.
Then a voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Oryn, one of the elders, cleared his throat. The five men snapped their attention toward him—and then immediately dropped to their knees as they noticed not one, but three elders now present.
"E-Elder Oryn… Elder Maedric… Elder Ysrald…" Vaelen's voice, for the first time, wavered. His dominant tone gone, replaced by caution and respect.
"We didn't notice you there," Rhyxen added, his calm composure returning, though his head remained bowed.
'Huh...so these old guys really are a big deal,' Luna thought, watching the power dynamic shift with fascination and apprehension.
Oryn lifted a hand, dismissing their panic with a soft wave. "It is no trouble. In fact…" His eyes turned to Luna, pinning her in place. "This is rather interesting. Her scent is so strong it masked even ours. I sensed it from the beginning."
Luna instinctively took a step back at the attention, her breath stuttering.
"You must be very strong," Oryn continued, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.
"She might be," Tyrnhael chimed in proudly, "considering she almost outran these five." His grin was wide, as if her capture had been a game.
Then Ysrald—calm, cold, and clinical—spoke.
"Now imagine how strong the child she will bear will be… especially with all five of them to possibly sire it."
Silence.
Luna blinked once. Then again.
Wait.
Her mind blanked.
What?
"I-I… Impregnate? Me? Them?" Her voice came out fragile, shaky. Her lips trembled as she tried to process the words. "I'm… confused."
Ysrald chuckled, unbothered. "My dear, what did you expect? You were brought here for one reason—and one reason only. To be the dam of a powerful child. Ideally a female." He gestured casually to the five men. "And who better to possibly sire that child than our strongest Alphas?"
Luna's blood ran cold. She had known—deep down, she had known she was brought here for some breeding purpose. But the confirmation shattered any hope she'd been wrong.
'Five? They want all five of them to...'
Her mind reeled.
'No. No, fuck that!'
Panic surged through her, wild and uncontrollable. Her body acted before her mind did—jerking backward, trying to escape, rope or not. Her breath came in gasps now.
But then—
"Hold on. What?" Vaelen spoke, brows furrowed. His tone wasn't angry—it was genuinely confused. "With all due respect… we weren't told we all had to?"
"That's right," Nohlan added, glancing toward the elders. "Aren't you supposed to choose one of us?"
Luna froze. Her head snapped toward them.
'Oh.'
She blinked, heart thumping erratically.
'They didn't know either.'
All the elders exchanged glances—brief, knowing—and then, as if on cue, broke into chuckles. The sound wasn't lighthearted. It was laced with condescension, with age-worn amusement at the naivety before them.
"My," Tyrnhael said, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile, "even our strongest can still need a little educating."
"Educating?" Rhyxen asked, confused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Chief, can you explain? Why do all of us need to… do it?"
There was a beat of silence before Rhaevos rolled his eyes with a sigh, his tone thick with exasperation. "Isn't it obvious?"
The others turned to him, frowning in unison.
"As the head of the breeding unit, this much should be clear," Rhaevos said, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. "It's to ensure pregnancy. To guarantee the strength of the offspring. She's not human—she's the first of our kind in nineteen years. The last female werewolf born didn't even survive past infancy. There's no assurance that one of us will be enough."
Luna stared blankly at him.
'That makes no damn sense…' her mind whispered, trying to keep up with their logic. 'Why not just try with one partner—again and again if they have to? Why all five?'
She wasn't the only one thinking it. The unease in the room thickened.
From behind the others, Elder Maedric finally stirred. The quietest among them, his voice was low but deliberate.
"That's not our reasoning," he said plainly, turning toward Tyrnhael with a nod. It was a silent cue.
The Chief Alpha sighed, the weight of unspoken truths gathering on his shoulders. For the first time, his commanding presence seemed… tired.
"Father?" Vaelen asked, stepping forward, brows knitting together.
Tyrnhael raised his chin. "As you all know… I'm well past my prime as chief alpha. My bones ache. My instincts are slowing. It's time I pass the torch."
Vaelen's eyes widened. For a moment, his expression softened—hope flaring, pride swelling in his chest. The others, however, shifted, disappointment flickering across their faces.
But Luna… Luna sensed the air about to change. It was in the silence. In the way Tyrnhael's eyes dropped—not toward Vaelen, but toward the ground.
"The elders and I…" Tyrnhael continued, "We've been having a difficult time choosing the next chief."
The words hit like stones. Vaelen's hopeful gaze dimmed, crumbling into something unspoken. The others—Rhaevos, Bastiel, Rhyxen, and Nohlan—all straightened slightly. Eyes sharpened. Now they were listening.
"Father…" Vaelen said slowly, the disbelief rising in his throat. "What does that mean? Shouldn't your son be the next chief?"
A scoff broke the tension.
"Aren't you his adopted son, though?" Bastiel sneered.
A snarl ripped from Vaelen's throat as he rounded on him. "You're really testing my patience, you—"
"Enough," Elder Oryn's voice cracked like a whip through the air. Instantly, the two men went still.
"Bastiel raises a valid point," Oryn said coldly. "By the law of the pack, only the strongest biological son of the chief may inherit the title. If the chief has no biological heir, then succession falls to the strongest alphas."
Ysrald stepped forward, voice smooth and measured. "And it just so happens that the five of you are all performing exceptionally. You've each proven yourselves—strong, capable, dominant in your roles. Equal in strength, in status…"
His golden eyes gleamed.
"We've struggled for months trying to choose one of you."
"And then," Maedric said, raising a long finger to point toward Luna, "this opportunity came to us."
Luna's entire body stilled.
'This' opportunity…'No. Oh, no—'
Maedric's words fell like a blade across her chest.
"We have decided," he said, "that whoever sires the first female werewolf in decades will be named the next chief."
The silence that followed wasn't quiet—it roared. Like a flame catching dry forest.
Every head in the room turned. All eyes—hungry, calculating, possessive—locked onto her.
Luna felt stripped bare.
She could see it in them. The fire igniting behind their irises. The greed, the ambition. The way the idea of power eclipsed everything else. To them, she wasn't a person anymore.
She was a throne.
A womb with a crown inside it.
'Ha…' Luna's hands clenched into trembling fists, her nails biting into her palms. 'No fucking way.'