I look at him. "The Luna vote?"
"The Luna vote,” he confirms with a heavy nod.
"How do you think it will go?" I ask.
"It depends on who speaks," he says. "And in what order." He hands the GPS log back to me. "You should bring what you have. Whatever you planned to say—say it."
He walks away before I can ask him what he thinks I planned to say, which is either very Ciaran or a very deliberate choice. Probably both.
I find Alden in the war room, standing over the terrain maps with his jacket still on and the bandage on his shoulder showing a faint dark stain through the fabric.
"Have you seen Ansel yet?” I poke the injury and he pulls back with a hiss.
"What was that for?" he asks.
"A reminder to get yourself medical attention.” I glare at him.
“No time for that." He waves me off. “Besides, if I didn’t pull the stitches stopping that hunter, you’d be shot.”
I feel my torso and give Alden a fake, surprised look. “I’m not shot, but you still have pulled stitches.”
“I’ll go to Ansel after the council vote.”
“Alden, what’s the point of everything we did to protect each other if you’re going to let yourself die of gangrene?” I poke his chest. “You have an hour before the council meeting.”
He gives me a playful grin. “Fine, you’ve convinced me.”
The stone clearingfills in the morning light with a different quality than it had under the Blood Moon. The ritual stones are just stones now, the torch brackets empty, the council assembled in the arc with the practical clothes. They looked tired, bags under the eyes, disheveled hair. No one got much rest after the battle. .
I stand at the center.
The braid is still neat against my head and over my shoulder. I kept it because it meant so much that Alden wanted me to carry that symbolism.
Ronan notices it immediately. His eyes move from the braid to Alden, standing by the central pillar, and his expression tightens and he turns up his nose.
"The Luna Braid," Ronan says, and the words carry to the outer ring. "You gave her the Luna Braid before the vote was cast."
"I gave my mate a braid before a battle," Alden says. "The vote doesn't change what she is to me."
"It changes what she is to us," Ronan says.
"That's what the vote is for," Alden says.
Lydia steps forward before Ronan can continue. "The law does not forbid a human mate. We've acknowledged that." Her voice is measured. "What it doesn't address is whether a human can serve as Luna effectively. That's a function, not a status. The Luna guides, mediates, represents pack interests. It requires someone who understands the pack from the inside."
"I've been inside this pack for months," I say. "I know your patrol corridors, your archive records, your blood disputes, and your council law. I've stitched wounds, documented evidence, escorted your children to a cave system, and met with the sheriff on your behalf." I look at Lydia directly. "At what point does inside count?"
She doesn't answer immediately.
"Show us something," Reid says from the younger council arc. He's not challenging—he's genuinely asking. "You keep presenting evidence and intelligence. You clearly know how to build a case. What would you do as Luna?"
I pull folded papers from my vest.
"A documented cooperation framework," I say, spreading the pages on the flat surface of the central stone. "A long-term plan for stable relations between Blackmoore pack and the surrounding community. Gradual integration of pack members into town infrastructure—businesses, services, civic presence—in ways that build goodwill without exposure." I tap the second page. "An early warning network for hunter and outside threat activity, using existing human contacts like Graves and the statewildlife office. A protocol for when humans get too close to pack territory—how to redirect, how to de-escalate, how to use legal channels before the problem becomes physical." I look along the arc. "What happened with the syndicate won't be the last time someone looks at this land and sees an opportunity. You need someone who can operate in human systems to close those gaps before they open."
Alden steps in. "The pack doesn't survive on isolation. We've proven that and it gave Gideon room to operate, because nobody was watching the boundaries from both sides." He looks around the arc. "Cassidy is the boundary. She is the thing the pack hasn't had—someone who can move in both worlds and report what she finds in either one."
Three of the younger wolves in the outer ring nod.
