Luther’s POV

*****

Manchester City, West Star Front Gates, 11:17 PM

A black Cadillac pulled up in front of the black iron gate, its headlights flaring. Luther and Silas sat at the back, a driver who knew how to be silent, the only one at the front.

Luther had his face angled out of the car, a hand on his chin.

Manchester.

Remembering what Celeste once said about this place and his pack made him smile a bit. It’s only been a few weeks. Yet so much has changed. For better and worse.

He glanced briefly at his brother.

Despite Silas’s story about how Amelia branded him, Luther still couldn’t bring himself to trust him. Not fully, at least.

Just then, the gates to the pack opened, two guards standing at the entrance with straightened postures. They bowed before making way for the car to drive in.

Right.

Here he wasn’t the picture-perfect academy jock.

He was Alpha.

As the car drove in, he lowered his window, bringing his head out enough to let people see his face. West Star was a vast estate, basically its own town within Manchester.

It had its own mall. A marketplace. Restaurants. Two parks. Schools... people rarely had to leave unless they really needed to.

Although nightlife was quiet here, people still moved through the sidewalks. Some saw the car and either waved, bowed or greeted. Others stared curiously, whispering things he didn’t care to decipher.

When the car finally got to the pack house, Luther was the first to step out. "Gods, I need a bath longer than that trip."

He stretched his limbs, yawning as Silas got out as well. The Beta avoided eye contact, taking in the manor they grew up in instead.

It reeked of old money, some pillars still having hints of architecture from the sixteenth century.

Luther shoved his hands into his pockets, already strutting toward the living room entrance.

"Alpha." A familiar voice chirped behind him.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. Then his brows lifted. "Nelson. Good evening. Don’t you think it’s too late for a welfare check?"

The man in question was the Pack’s Gamma. Average height but with a muscular build. In his early to mid forties too, dressed in a uniform with an eight-pointed star etched to his right chest.

"I’m sorry to disturb, Alpha," the man bowed slightly, nodding at Silas. "Beta... the Elders got word of what happened at Bloodoak Academy."

Luther’s brows knitted. "Got word, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what ’word’ did they hear this time?"

"I’m not sure but they appeared troubled, Alpha," Nelson admitted. "They sent me to get your attention when you arrive. You and the Beta."

For once Luther exchanged a look with Silas. Neither said anything—yet their eyes seemed to do all the talking. They both shared similar sentiments about the Elders.

So—

"Attention not granted." Luther scoffed. "We can discuss whatever this is tomorrow."

"Sir, they insisted it be tonight."

Luther was about to continue walking when those words left the Gamma’s mouth. His fists balled, wolf already bristling with irritation.

’Those old coots are begging for a mass beheading at this point.’ his wolf growled. ’Let’s—’

’We aren’t going to do anything dramatic,’ he said as he spun around to meet Nelson’s expectant eyes. He wore a practiced smile. "I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting then. Lead the way, Gamma."

As the older man nodded and scurried toward the compound gate, Luther glanced at Silas. The latter’s eyes glinted with curiosity.

"Why do I feel like there’s been some tension between you and the Elders before now?"

All Luther did was shrug. "We’re heading there, aren’t we?" His gaze focused ahead. "Let’s get this over with."

.

.

The pack council hall was brightly lit with white crystal chandeliers. Paintings of past Alphas and important figures in the Pack’s history were hung on the walls.

At the centre of the hall was a round table where familiar faces were already gathered. Waiting.

Luther’s eyes scanned past each face, bored and unhurried. "Good evening, Elders and council members."

As Gamma Nelson took his seat, the others rose, bowing before Luther. "Good evening, Alpha."

Elder Jacob kept his gaze pinned on the young Alpha, assessing him for a moment. "I trust your journey here was—"

"Yeah, yeah... it was all peachy and shit," Luther didn’t even try being civilised, dropping to his seat lazily. He gestured at everyone gathered. "What’s this about? And why couldn’t it wait till morning?"

The Delta, a woman in her forties with short black hair, cleared her throat. "Sir, the Elders brought an issue to the council. About your... alleged involvement with the North American Alpha king’s daughter."

"The one the media calls," an elder with a frown thicker than his grey moustache chimed, "child of chaos. We all saw the videos from Montecito. The one where a Vein beast spoke to her and—"

"I fail to see how any of this should be worth discussing." Luther’s fingers drummed on the table. "I really don’t. What? The great Elders of our pack now believe anything they see on the internet? Or the crazed words of a Vein beast?"

Deep down, his mind raced.

He couldn’t let these old coots know anything about Celeste’s connection to the Vein. They didn’t deserve that information.

"We also got word of what’s been happening at your academy," Elder Jacob took the reins, his chin lifting. "The murders. First an academic staff. Then a friend of Celeste Bloodoak herself."

Luther’s mouth parted but the man pushed:

"It’s clear that whatever is happening... danger and chaos seem to surround this girl," he paused. "Yet from the look of things not only is your brother courting her but now you too?"

The only female Elder spat. "How outrageous if true. Sharing one hybrid like there aren’t hundreds of eligible wolves from strong bloodlines here for you to pick."

A guttural growl reverberated from Luther’s wolf. He held it back.

The tension in the room thickened.

Elder Jacob leaned forward, fingers steepled. "For your safety, Alpha, and the stability of this pack... we strongly suggest you withdraw from Bloodoak Academy."

Another elder nodded. "White Flame Academy would be more suitable. It is within Europe. Better monitored. Better protected."

"Less... chaotic influences," the female Elder added pointedly.

Luther’s gaze lifted slowly, dragging across each of their faces.

"And why," he drawled, voice low, "do I get the feeling this has less to do with my safety and more to do with whom I choose to stand beside?"

Silence.

Elder Jacob exhaled. "If you insist on being honest, Alpha... yes. We believe your continued proximity to that girl is clouding your judgment."

There it was.

Luther’s jaw ticked. "So this is about Celeste."

A murmur rippled through the table.

"And here I thought you all dragged me out at midnight for something actually important."

"Then prove us wrong," the Delta pressed. "Transfer. Distance yourself. If your judgement remains sound—"

"No."

The word cracked through the hall like a whip.

Every head snapped to him.

Luther leaned forward, palms flat against the table now. His aura pressed outward—not enough to crush... but enough to remind.

"I’m not transferring," he said, voice steady and cutting. "And I’m not doing it because I won’t sit here and let any of you police my actions." His eyes glowed faintly. "I am your Alpha. I don’t answer to you."

A sharp inhale came from somewhere across the table.

Then—he dropped it. Casually: "Celeste Bloodoak is my mate."

Gasps rippled around the table.

Silas didn’t move. But Luther caught it—the faintest lift at the corner of his brother’s lips. Approval.

Confusion erupted immediately.

"Your mate?"

"Then why have you both been seeing her...?"

"How is the Beta...?"

Voices overlapped, questions stacking over each other in chaos.

Luther didn’t explain. Didn’t clarify. He didn’t give them shit.

"That," he cut through them sharply, "is none of your concern."

The room fell silent again.

"But let me make one thing very clear," he added, his voice dropping dangerously. "I will not tolerate rumours about my mate. Not in this council. Not in this pack. Not anywhere."

The female Elder recovered first, her lips thin. "Even if we accept that... making her Luna is another matter entirely."

Luther stilled.

"She is a hybrid," another elder added. "Her blood will dilute the strength of your lineage. The people will not accept it. They will be agitated—"

Luther let out a short, humourless laugh. "Funny." He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly. "Did Alpha King Kaelos consider ’bloodlines’ when he chose Luna Queen Odessa?"

No one answered.

"He didn’t," Luther continued. "And now look at their children." His gaze hardened. "Powerful. Feared. Unmatched."

Silence again.

He pushed his chair back. "I’m done here."

Then he turned and walked out.

Silas followed, none of the Elders daring to speak until they left.

.

.

The pack house’s main balcony overlooked the vast estate, city lights flickering faintly in the distance.

Neither of them spoke at first.

They each had two glasses of vodka. Half full.

The night air was cold. Quiet.

Silas broke it. "She’s going to need us again soon."

Luther didn’t look at him before answering. "I know."

His grip tightened slightly around the glass.

"This distance?" he added after a beat. "It’s temporary."

Silas nodded slowly.

Then—

"I’m proud of you."

That made Luther glance at him.

"For finally standing up to them."

A pause.

Then Luther scoffed lightly, looking back out at the estate. "About time they remembered who’s in charge."