Chapter 4 - Shadows on the Ridge
Back at the High Stones clearing, the atmosphere was a volatile mix of panic and suppressed violence.
Harrison Blake paced before the dying embers of the central fire, his boots crunching angrily into the ash. His face was dark, veins bulging at his temples as he glared at the remaining foreign delegates who lingered near the perimeter.
"She’s an untamed girl who doesn't know her own strength," Harrison barked, trying to reclaim control of a room that had thoroughly slipped from his fingers. "The shock of her late transformation has destabilized her mind. The Blake pack will handle her retrieval and rehabilitation according to traditional law."
"Rehabilitation?" Donovan stepped forward from the shadows of the granite dais, his scarred face twisted into a cynical sneer. "You called her defective for two decades, Harrison. You locked her out of every hunt, every rank, every scrap of respect. Do you really think a White Luna is going to come back to her cage just because you whistle?"
"She is my pack member," Harrison snarled, his wolf clawing dangerously close to the surface of his skin. "Her bloodline is registered under my crest."
"Her bloodline belongs to the North," a cold, smooth voice interrupted from the darkness beyond the firelight.
Nathaniel stepped into the amber glow. He had removed his ceremonial Alpha-heir pelts, wearing only a dark hunting tunic, his bow slung over his shoulder and a quiver of silver-tipped arrows strapped to his back. His face was set in a hard, unyielding line that made him look frighteningly like his father—yet entirely independent of him.
Harrison stopped pacing, narrowing his eyes at his son. "Where do you think you’re going?"
"To find her," Nathaniel said evenly.
"She humiliated us in front of the entire Council!" Harrison roared, stepping into his son’s space. "She walked away from her Alpha! If you go chasing after a rogue White Luna like some lovesick boy, you forfeit your right to the succession!"
"Let him go, Harrison," Donovan chuckled darkly, resting a heavy hand on his sword hilt. "Maybe the boy has better instincts than his father. A White Luna isn't captured with chains or pack law. She has to be claimed. And if the future Alpha of the Blake pack brings her back—or dies trying—it saves the rest of us a lot of trouble."
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Nathaniel didn't look at Donovan. His amber eyes remained locked on his father’s face. "You spent twenty-three years telling me she was nothing, Father. You told me to ignore her, to let her freeze at the edge of the fire. And I listened to you. Look where that got us."
Without waiting for another word, Nathaniel turned on his heel and strode out of the clearing, heading straight into the dark, silent forest along the fresh trail of two sets of footprints and one set of massive, diamond-tipped paws.
