I haven’t had to absorb so much information since college, and I start taking notes.
It's a lot. All of it together—the council sessions, the younger wolves' tracking lessons, the research station planning, the Kieran trial framework, Brynn's orientation—pulls in more directions simultaneously than I'm used to managing, and I'm a person who has run three-month field deployments in two-person teams with no backup.
I don't say that out loud, because saying it would mean admitting I might be approaching the limit of what I can sustain, and I'm not ready to do that while the pack is still stabilizing and the work still needs doing.
The last trap comes out of the ground on a Thursday afternoon, in the northwest corner of the southern corridor, buried under six inches of pine duff and positioned on a game trail I've walked forty times. I photograph it, disable it, log the coordinates, and stand in the forest with my field kit at my feet and the afternoon light slanting through the pines.
I radio Ciaran. "That's the last one."
"Confirmed," he says.
I pack the kit, shoulder it, and walk back to the mansion.
Alden's quarters are dark when I get there, which means he's asleep, which means the sensible thing is to go to my room and not disturb him. I stand in the doorway weighing that option.
Then I go in, leave my field vest on the chair, and slide into the bed beside him.
He doesn't wake up, but his arm moves in his sleep, pulling me against his chest with the automatic certainty of the bond, and I tuck my head against his shoulder and look at the dark ceiling and feel the accumulated weight of the last several weeks settle into the mattress beneath me.
It's the first full night's sleep I've had since the Blood Moon Trial.
I'm asleep before I finish the thought.
38
ALDEN
Someone strung lanterns between the outer ring posts of the stone clearing, and the bonfire built at the clearing's northern edge is already pulling heat into the chilly evening air before the ceremony begins. The whole pack is here.
I stand in the center of the stone clearing in my formal Alpha cloak, which Ciaran had cleaned and pressed just for this occasion.
Brynn opens the ceremony with the traditional invocation, the old language of pack law that most of the younger wolves know only in fragments.
I know all of it. My father made sure of that, and his father before him.
"The Alpha Challenge has been met and resolved," Brynn says, her staff marking each beat. "The Blackmoore Alpha stands. The pack stands with him. What was threatened is intact, and what was corrupt has been removed. We mark this formally, before the full pack and before the record."
I look out at the crescent and find faces I know. Rafe, who held the choke point without hesitation. The young enforcer who spoke up at the Luna vote. Marek, who questioned everythingand ultimately voted right. The wolves who turned their backs on Gideon in the middle of the fight because the evidence made the choice clear.
“This celebration is to honor a new chapter for the pack,” Brynn declares. She grabs a pack relic, a golden chalice, and takes a sip before passing it down the line of council members, who all take a sip.
When the wine is returned to the center stone, I step forward.
"Ciaran Veyne," I say, "Beta of this pack served with loyalty through a crisis designed specifically to fracture that loyalty, and he didn't fracture." I take the Pack Honor medallion from the case Brynn holds it out to Ciaran. "The pack sees your service."
He takes it with a bow and puts it around his neck. "You honor me, Alpha.”
"Brynn Ashford," I say, turning to the older woman. "Matriarch of this council. She’s held the law of this pack with integrity through four Alphas, two challenges, and one conspiracy." I cross to her, and she holds the case so I can take the second medallion. I hold the medallion out. "The pack sees your wisdom."
She looks at it for a moment. "You could have just said thank you," she says.
"This is better," I say.
She takes it, and places it around her neck. "Arguably," she says, and steps back.
Then Cassidy.
She's standing in the inside of the ritual stones in a dress, dark fabric, simple cut, nothing ceremonial about it except the Luna Braid still threaded down her left side. She looks every part the Luna—elegant and beautiful.
