She hadn’t spoken properly to her brother in months. Every conversation since they’d lost their parents had ended with silence or anger. He’d built a life with no space for her. Still, seeing him there, close to the Alpha, trusted and belonging in a way she never would, hurt with the kind of depth she’d never be able to truly hide, not even from herself.
She forced her attention back to the front as Dominic stepped forward
The murmur of voices stilled instantly. Every pair of eyes fixed on him.
Layla swallowed hard, pulse climbing.
The air changed, thicker, expectant. The weight of the pack’s attention pressed against her, threatening to choke.
Dominic’s gaze swept across the crowd once, measuring, assessing. When it passed over her, just for a heartbeat, she felt its touch, cold and electric all at once.
Then he looked away, and the moment broke.
Layla barely dared to breathe. Whatever he was about to say, it wasn’t good.
The hall was utterly still now, every flicker of flame reflected in a hundred watchful eyes.
Dominic didn’t raise his voice, but it carried anyway. Low, even, threaded with power.
“You all know why I’ve called you here.”
No one moved.
“Over the past month,” he continued, “our borders have been tested. Humans have gone missing. Patrols have found tracks that don’t belong to us. The rumors are true. The hybrids are growing bolder.”
A murmur rippled through the hall, frightened and angry. Layla held her breath, shrinking further back into the shadows, instinctively recoiling from the pack’s fury.
Dominic didn’t let the noise grow. “Enough.”
The single word silenced them.
He waited a beat until the hush settled again. “We’ve confirmed movement near the Volnoye border. They’rewatching us, gauging how we respond. And they will come for Skymist if we show weakness.”
At the mention of the neighboring pack, a few wolves exchanged uneasy glances. The Volnoye Pack’s shadow stretched long over them, Leonid’s presence like a ghost. A few of the stronger alphas, both Volkhov and Nordan, sneered mockingly. There was still caution in their eyes.
Dominic’s expression didn’t change. “We will not show weakness,” he said, “and we will not panic. We will not fall.”
He looked toward his lieutenants then. Theodore straightened immediately, shoulders squared, but Julian didn’t move, only watched, sharp-eyed, unreadable as ever.
Dominic’s gaze swept the crowd again. A muscle in his jaw ticked. Layla knew the sign. Knew that whatever he was about to say, the words would not come easy to him. He was fighting a battle of some kind. And that rarely boded well.
Her stomach tightened.
“There are times,' he said slowly, “when raw strength alone isn’t enough. When opportunity comes to find power in new places.”
A rustle went through the crowd, confused at first, then curious.
Dominic’s tone shifted, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “The God Lunarion has made his will known to me.”
The murmur grew louder. Some bowed their heads instinctively; others gasped or whispered prayers. The last time anyone had claimed divine visitation had been before Layla was born.
Her mouth went dry.
“I can no longer resist the will of our God,” Dominic continued. “He calls for renewal. For the binding of strength and balance. For the Alpha to stand not as one, but as two halves joined.”
Layla’s pulse quickened. She knew the words, their ritual cadence, the phrasing used in old texts to mark a mating declaration.
Her eyes darted to Theodore. He looked as startled as the rest, his brows drawn tight, lips pressed thin. His gaze flicked between Dominic and the gathered crowd, calculating.
