Chapter 3 — Clashing Wills

Alessandra

The High Council Hall loomed ahead, a monolith of shadow and moonlight. Torch flames licked the polished black stone walls, their flickering glow casting shifting shadows that danced like specters. My boots struck the floor in sharp, deliberate steps, each echo a reminder of why I didn’t belong here. The scent of burning sage wrapped around me, cloying and heavy, as if the very air sought to suffocate me. For a moment, it felt as though the carved wolves etched into the silver-veined walls were watching, their static obedience mocking me.

My gaze snagged on the Blood Moon Dagger, displayed on its pedestal near the far wall. Its crimson hue shimmered faintly in the torchlight, a symbol of everything I both despised and couldn’t escape. The weight of expectation pressed down harder at the sight, and I forced myself to look away.

*You know, for someone who hates this place, you sure do love storming in here like you own it,* Leya’s teasing voice coiled through my mind.

*I’m not storming. I’m walking with purpose,* I shot back, barely suppressing a smirk.

*Oh, yes, because nothing says “purpose” like inhaling enough sage smoke to knock out a small bear. Very effective strategy.*

I snorted, the sound loud enough to draw a sharp glare from one of the elders. I met the glare head-on, my chin lifting slightly. Let them judge. That’s all they ever did—watch, whisper, and enforce their suffocating traditions with all the finesse of iron shackles.

The semi-circle of elders sat like a murder of crows, their expressions carved with disapproval as if it were their birthright. At the chamber’s center stood Dane, rigid as a statue, his broad shoulders squared beneath the weight of command. The torchlight played cruel tricks with the sharp lines of his jaw and the piercing blue of his eyes. He was the epitome of control and power. Annoyingly so.

I hated the way the mate bond thrummed the moment I noticed him, a pull as persistent as it was unwelcome. It wasn’t just a physical sensation. It was a presence—a low hum beneath my skin that refused to be silenced.

*Careful, Alessandra,* Leya chimed, her tone faintly amused. *If you stare any harder, he might actually melt. Or, you know, bark.*

*Three minutes,* I thought darkly. *That’s how long I give him before the commanding tone comes out.*

“Alessandra.” His voice cut through the hall, low and deliberate, echoing off the stone walls.

Right on time.

I tilted my head, meeting his gaze with a calm indifference I didn’t feel. “Dane.”

The air in the hall thickened as his name left my lips. The mate bond sizzled in the space between us, a live wire stretched taut. His jaw tightened, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by the cold, calculated restraint that defined him.

“We need to talk.”

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. “About what? The weather? The rogue attack? Or perhaps the moon’s brilliant sense of humor in tying me to you?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “This isn’t a joke, Alessandra.”

“No,” I said lightly. “It’s a nightmare.”

The elders exchanged wary glances, their whispers swirling like smoke. Their mutterings reached my ears in fragmented phrases—“rebellious,” “defiant,” “unfit.” My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms, but I kept my face impassive. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing their words hit home.

Dane took a step closer, the weight of his presence pressing against me. His voice dropped, a low rumble that vibrated with controlled anger. “You think this is easy for me? You think I wanted this?”

The heat of his words was a slap I refused to acknowledge. “Believe me, I’m under no illusions about how much you loathe this,” I said, each word laced with venom. “Don’t worry—the feeling is mutual.”

For a heartbeat, his icy exterior cracked, the frustration bleeding through. “We can’t just ignore this,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less forceful.

“The bond,” I interrupted sharply, “is nothing but a leash wrapped in silver and moonlight. And unlike you, I don’t intend to let it choke me.”

His eyes narrowed, the glint of challenge unmistakable. “You don’t have a choice, Alessandra. None of us do.”

I laughed, sharp and bitter. “There’s always a choice. And I choose to walk away.”

*Bold move,* Leya muttered. *Let me know how that works out when the bond drags you back like an overeager puppy.*

Dane stepped closer, his frame casting a long shadow that nearly swallowed me. “You think you can outrun this?”

“I think,” I said, leaning in just enough to hold his gaze, “that you don’t know me nearly as well as you think you do.”

For a moment, the tension between us was a physical thing, pulling taut like a bowstring. My heart pounded against my ribs, and I hated that I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or something deeper, something I didn’t dare name.

“Enough.”

The single word cut through the air like a blade. Elder Adriana rose from her seat, her silver hair gleaming in the torchlight. Her sharp gaze flicked between Dane and me, exuding authority with every step.

“This is not the place for petty squabbles,” she said, her tone like steel cloaked in velvet. “You both have a duty to this pack, and your personal grievances pale in comparison to the challenges we face.”

“Grievances?” I echoed, my voice tight with disbelief. “That’s what you call this?”

Adriana’s gaze pinned me in place. “Enough, Alessandra.” She turned to Dane, her expression softening slightly but losing none of its weight. “And you. If you cannot find a way to work together, you risk throwing this pack into chaos. Is that what you want?”

Dane’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw working as if swallowing back whatever retort was on the tip of his tongue. He said nothing, but the flicker of guilt in his eyes was answer enough.

Adriana lingered a moment longer before returning to her seat, her silence a command in its own right.

Without another word, I spun on my heel and strode toward the doors, my fists still clenched. The whispers of the elders followed me, a low hum of judgment and disapproval, but I refused to let them stick.

“This isn’t over,” Dane’s voice called after me, low and steady.

I didn’t turn around. “You’re right,” I said coolly, my voice carrying through the hall. “It’s just getting started.”

The doors closed with a resonant thud behind me, sealing the oppressive atmosphere away. Outside, the cool night air swept over me, carrying the faint rustle of leaves and the distant call of an owl. The moonlight fractured through the canopy, spilling across the ground in silver shards.

*You know,* Leya said conversationally, *for someone who claims to hate drama, you certainly seem to thrive on it.*

*Shut up,* I muttered, though the corner of my mouth twitched despite myself.

Her laughter was soft and teasing, a counterpoint to the storm still brewing in my chest. The bond burned hot and relentless beneath my skin, but I shoved the sensation aside. I wouldn’t let it control me. Not now. Not ever.

As I strode into the dark embrace of the forest, one thought echoed, unbidden yet undeniable.

*This fight isn’t over.*