Elara pov.
The Great Hall of the Shadowlands Pack was overwhelming.
It wasn't the opulence; the room was vast, dominated by a towering stone hearth and banners bearing Roland's fierce black wolf sigil; it was the collective power of the pack.
Hundreds of eyes were fixed on her, assessing the former captive, the new Luna, the silent answer to their war alarm.
Elara wore a gown of deep emerald silk, simple yet rich, that Roland had wordlessly provided.
It felt heavy, a ceremonial armor. Beside her, Cassian walked with an imposing stiffness, lending his strength as Beta, but her focus was solely on the man waiting at the dais.
Roland stood before the assembled pack, the undisputed Devil of the Shadowlands, yet when his gaze met hers, the cold Alpha dominance fractured, revealing the intense, protective fire of her mate.
Do not waver, Elara. I am your anchor.
Trust the bond.
His command, silent and resonant across the newly established connection, was the only thing holding her steady.
She was no longer the frail human slave; the Witch's Bane was gone, and the nascent energy of the Moonfall hybrid was humming beneath her skin, caged but ready.
As they reached the foot of the dais, Cassian stepped back.
Elara stood alone before the pack.
The silence in the hall was absolute, thick with a mixture of curiosity, skepticism, and the primal need for leadership stability.
Roland took her hand, pulling her up the steps to stand beside him. His touch was a public declaration, instantly silencing any doubt that this was anything other than a true mate bond.
He turned to face the hundreds of wolves, his posture radiating absolute authority.
"Shadowlands!"
Roland's voice boomed, deep and resonant, accepting no argument.
"You heard the alarm. You met the challenge of the Coven.
The witches came for one reason: to claim the power that now stands beside me."
He tightened his grip on Elara's hand, pulling her closer to his side.
"The story you were told about the trade, the treaty, the arrangement with Richard was a political shield.
The lie was necessary to keep my mate hidden until she was safe within our walls."
A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Roland didn't pause.
"Richard intended to use her, to kill her spirit and control her power. He failed. The moment our hands met, the ancient bond was affirmed.
Elara is not a hostage; she is the Moonfall Luna, and she is the key to our future, the conduit for the land itself!"
He leaned down, his voice dropping to a ferocious, intimate growl that carried to every wolf in the hall.
"She is mine.
And the Coven knows it."
He lifted his hand, revealing the silver Moonfall pendant wrapped in silk, which he had retrieved from her room.
He unwrapped it, and the moonlight streaming through the high arched windows caught the shattered-moon etching.
Roland turned to Elara, his eyes blazing with the gold of his wolf. This was the ritual.
This was the moment of ultimate commitment and public possession.
He reached up, cupping her cheek with his free hand, forcing her to look only at him. Elara willingly melted into his touch, trusting him completely.
"Elara," he murmured, his voice husky, "I claim you as my Luna, my mate, my strength.
You are home, and you are protected by the Shadowlands. Now, accept your place and draw the pack's strength into your own."
He leaned in and pressed his lips firmly to the delicate, pulsing skin just beneath her ear, right where the scent gland was located.
It wasn't a bite, but a powerful, possessive scent mark.
The act was a fusion of dominance and adoration.
The moment their skin met, the energy in the hall detonated.
A visible wave of light and power, a flash of dark gold mixed with incandescent silver erupted from Roland and Elara, slamming into the pack.
It wasn't physical force, but a profound, undeniable sense of unity and belonging.
The pack felt the power of the hybrid and the sheer, brutal dominance of their Alpha's bond, and any remaining skepticism was crushed instantly.
They felt the stability of the Nexus flowing through her and anchoring to Roland.
A massive, unified howl rose from the throats of hundreds of Shadowlands wolves.
Acceptance.
Loyalty.
To Luna.
Roland pulled back, his eyes dark with satisfaction and primal relief. Elara was breathless, but her body felt strong, fully integrated with his power.
She stood tall, meeting the pack's gaze, no longer the terrified girl, but the undeniable Luna.
"This bond is sealed," Roland declared, his voice ringing with victory.
"The Coven believes they broke her free. Let them come.
Let them see what happens when the Devil of the Shadowlands defends his mate."
Strategy and The March.
The pack dispersed, galvanized by the undeniable display of power. Roland and Elara returned to the strategy bunker, the scent of the Claiming Ritual still heavy in the air.
"The pack is unified, Alpha," Cassian affirmed, his gaze respectful toward Elara. "The claim was absolute. The instability has dropped."
"Good," Roland clipped out, already back to business. "The Coven is expecting us to heal and regroup. We will not. We hit Richard now, while he is complacent."
He pointed to the map where Gideon was waiting with the tactical unit.
"The Nexus is still vulnerable. Elara, you broke the fire and water seals in the fight, which means the Earth and Air seals are the only things still protecting the full Nexus core.
Richard is the key to understanding how to repair the damage."
He turned to Elara, his eyes serious. "You are not leaving the mansion, Luna.
You must be protected."
"I am not a liability, Roland," Elara challenged, meeting his gaze. "You need to bring Richard back alive, but the Coven is watching his territory, too. If they intercept your attack, you will lose the intelligence we need.
I can create a diversion that only the Coven will see."
She touched the pendant.
"I can channel the elements.
I can use the same kinetic fire I used on Thane to draw the Coven's attention away from Gideon and the assault team.
The goal is to make them think I am still trapped in Richard's territory."
Roland stared at her, the Alpha torn between protection and strategy.
The idea was reckless, brilliant, and devastatingly necessary.
"No," he growled.
"Yes," Elara insisted, stepping closer and placing her hand on his chest, where the bond thrummed.
"The lie is dead, Roland. The war is not. I am your mate, and your weapon. Let me be your shield."
Roland's resolve crumbled under the weight of her logic and her fearless proximity.
He pulled her into a fierce, desperate embrace.
"Fine. You will use a controlled fire signature at the nearest Shadowlands border, far from the real attack," Roland conceded, his voice heavy with reluctant acceptance.
"Cassian, you will stay here. You are her shadow. The moment the fire is lit, you will pull her back. If you fail to protect her, you answer to me."
The Claiming Ritual had established their bond, but it had only just begun their war.
The tactical strike on Richard's pack is imminent, and Elara has insisted on using her nascent power to create a crucial diversion for the Coven.