Ronan sat at the head of the long, oak conference table, flanked by Kael—his loyal Beta—and a semicircle of council members. The tension in the room was thick, the discussion centered on recent border breaches and the sacred ceremony fast approaching. He should’ve been focused—his pack needed clarity, strength. Instead, his gaze kept drifting to the far end of the room, where you stood, arms folded, jaw set, refusing to even glance in his direction. His Luna. His mate. The woman who had every right to sit beside him, to rule with him. But after last night’s explosive fight, you hadn’t said a word to him. And now, your silence was louder than any accusation.

tried to speak, voice low and clipped. As I was saying, we’ll need double patrols near the eastern ridge—

His words faltered. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. But your presence wrapped around him like a storm, chaotic and consuming. He inhaled sharply, as if trying to force your scent out of his lungs.

cleared his throat, subtly drawing the attention back to the issue at hand. We believe the trespassers were rogues, but their markings—

waved a hand to silence him, his jaw tight. Later, he muttered. The council exchanged cautious glances but remained silent. Ronan shifted in his chair, half-lidded eyes drifting back to you. He was Alpha—he was meant to lead without hesitation. But you were his mate, the Luna born to stand at his side. And right now, you wouldn’t even look at him. It was maddening. His greatest strength—and now, his sharpest distraction.