They listened. And in the end, they agreed, but on one condition. A simple one, carved from loyalty as steady as bone.
They told me they would follow if Noa Alderwood was my Luna. If they were aligning themselves with my pack, it would be with the two of us as a unit, not with me as a lone wolf.
I told them I would spend the rest of my life making that become a reality, that nothing in this world could stop me from putting Noa where she belongs. They agreed. It was a much-needed win after so long of feeling like I was constantly failing.
Noa’s head swivels, eyes sweeping the crowd but never landing on what she’s looking for. She’s searching for Cerys and the rest of the she-wolf warriors, but she won’t find themhere.Only the coven’s within these walls. The rest are outside, right where I need them, waiting for my signal.
Right now, this pack needs the decay cut out.
“I want every member of Pack McNamara off my land,” I announce, pulling their attention back where it belongs. “You are no longer wanted guests here.” The noise rises at that. McNamara wolves bristle, some of my own shift uneasily, like they still imagine this alliance as a shield instead of the knife it has been at our throat. I let the sound swell then speak over it, sharper. My voice slices through it, calm but unyielding, the way my father’s never could be without cruelty. “And while we’re cleaning house, let’s deal with something closer to home.”
My eyes settle on the wolves who’ve been thorns in my side since the day I stepped up. Council members who spent my father’s reign perched at his shoulder, who looked at me and saw a boy they could shape instead of an Alpha they should follow. They argued every reform, undercut every decision, smiled in my face while whispering behind my back as if I was too foolish to notice.
I start calling council member names.
All five of them.
Each one flinches when their name hits the air. Good.
Then the others. The wolves who raised their voices in Talis’s defense, outraged that I would dare to send Cathal and his daughter packing when they still hold on to the belief that his guards are the only thing standing between our omegas and finding them dead in the snow. Like Carly. Four in total come forward. All faces I’ve known since childhood, now twisted with a loyalty that does not belong solely to this pack.
Finally, my gaze slides to the enforcer ranks. To Darran, who showed his hand at the first meeting with the two packs and coven. To his two friends who seem to mirror his thinking. To two more who laughed too easily with McNamara men near ourborders when they thought no one of consequence was looking. And last, to Mercer.
“Up here,” I order them. “Now.”
They hesitate, but the bark in my voice has each moving before they’re ready.
They line up before the stage. I meet every eye, steady and unblinking.
“I’ve tolerated more than I should have,” I tell them. “When I first took this position, I thought keeping my father’s men in place would ease the transition. That holding steady meant stability. I didn’t want to drag this pack through more upheaval than it had already seen.” The memory of my father’s blood coating my tongue rises in my throat, and I push through it. “But I’ve learned what happens when you guard legacy instead of lives. It’s no different than allowing rot to go unchecked and expecting the structure to keep standing.”
I wait, let the silence bite.
“That ends tonight. As of now, the Pack Fallamhain council is dismissed from their duties. A new council will be formed in the coming days—one that understands loyalty isn’t inherited, it’s earned. Those who’ve already proven themselves will be invited back.” Like Yrsa, Oswin, and Zora. I shift my attention to the line of enforcers. “The enforcer roster’s getting restructured too. Starting with you, Darran, and your lapdogs here.”I tilt my head toward the pair who backed his little outburst during the meeting with the packs and coven and then spent today glued to his back while they cozied up with the McNamara enforcers. “You’re done. Consider yourselves relieved of your duties,” I turn to Mercer next. “Your position depends on what you choose right now.”
He doesn’t blink. Stands firm. Unreadable. A soldier through and through.
“If anyone here cannot stand behind me as their Alpha,” I tell the line and the room beyond it, because this applies to them too. “If you cannot accept the choices I’m making for this pack, then I encourage you to walk out with Pack McNamara. You’re not trapped here, but you’re also not wanted if you’re going to be a crack in the foundation of what I’m trying to rebuild.” I step back, attention sweeping across the faces in the room. “There’s a team outside waiting to escort you from my territory. You’ll have one chance to leave with them of your own volition. If you fight, we will ensure that you’re dragging yourself out by your fingernails. Now, decide how this is going to go.”
I turn toward the windows, and the sight waiting there tells me the meticulous planning and secrets paid off.
Outside the front of the lodge, wolves begin to step out from the tree line. Canaan stands at the center, shoulders squared and steady, with Cerys at his side. The wolves at their backs are Fallamhain loyalists vetted by Canaan and Craddock women who chose to stand with us. Two packs who now stand under one banner. They form a line like a shield.
Through the back windows, more movement.
Wolves emerge from the shadows of the pines behind the lodge, their silhouettes unfamiliar to most in this room, but I know them all well. The years when I was away from home, I spent among them. Adopted into their ranks as an unofficial member.
After that first night in Ashvale—after the attack—I called in a favor. Told my college friend and business partner, Rook Draven, to be on standby. Said I’d need his help. That was the night the vague idea I’d been nursing, the one that was more hope than plan, started to take shape. That’s when I knew I couldn’t prolong waiting to cut my ties with Cathal longer than I had to. Rook didn’t hesitate. The future Alpha of theSeattle-based pack and ten of his wolves were making travel arrangements within an hour of when I called.
Rhosyn’s beside him now, steady as ever, ready—and probably hoping, if I know my second’s mate at all—to draw some blood. She’s even more fired up because she knows this is all on Noa’s behalf. No one is more faithful than Rhosyn Roarke.
Between the wolves, the remaining witches take their places—Amara’s coven, minus the crones who needed to stay back with the Nightingales and Ivey. They move with purpose, forming a perfect ring around the lodge. A living perimeter of fangs and claws, and spell craft. None of them came here for Cathal. Truth is, they’re barely here for me either. They came for her. For Noa.
Inside, bodies go stiff.
McNamara wolves clock the numbers and rethink every threat and battle plan. Some of my own fidget. The wolves lined up before me feel it worst, standing exposed while the walls close in, the cold realization that I haven’t been bluffing laid at their feet.
I bring my full attention back to them.
