Chapter Five

"He hasn't, until now." Ethan looked troubled. "There's talk that he's finally seeking a mate. After consolidating his power over three neighboring territories, he wants to establish his bloodline."

We crested the hill that overlooked the ceremonial grounds, now transformed into what humans might call a fancy garden party. Werewolves from all five packs mingled in their human forms, though even from this distance, I could sense the underlying tension—predators forced into polite socialization before the real hunt began.

"Just stick close to me or Lucas," Ethan advised as we descended toward the gathering. "And try not to catch anyone's attention."

Fat chance of that, I thought glumly, noting how my casual attire stood out among the formal wear. Female wolves paraded in elegant dresses and heels, while males strutted in suits and traditional pack emblems. Even Ethan had dressed in our pack's formal attire—a charcoal suit with our silver wolf emblem on the lapel.

As Alpha's daughter, I was immediately ushered to a private receiving room in the Elder's lodge—a stone building that served as our pack's formal meeting place. Here, I was expected to represent Blackwood in meetings with delegates from each visiting pack.

"You could have at least brushed your hair, one last time," my mother hissed as she appeared beside me, fussing with my wild locks before the first delegates arrived.

I shrugged away from her ministrations. "If they're judging me by my hair, they're not worth impressing."

Mom looked like she might argue, but the door opened, admitting the first representatives from the Pine Shadow pack. I forced a smile and fell into the formal greetings I'd been taught since childhood, all while scanning the room for potential escape routes.

The afternoon dragged on in a blur of introductions, forced small talk, and thinly veiled assessments of my breeding potential. I felt like a prized mare at auction, being inspected for flaws and assets. Just when I thought I couldn't take another minute, the door opened again, and a woman unlike any I'd seen before sauntered in.

She wore tight black leather pants and a red vest that emphasized her curves, her dark hair cascading down her back in glossy waves. While the other female wolves had presented themselves with demure smiles and downcast eyes, this one surveyed the room like she owned it—her gaze calculating and confident.

When her eyes landed on me, her perfect lips curled into a smile that held no warmth.

"So this is the famous Lena Blackwood," she drawled, approaching with the fluid grace of a predator. "I expected someone more... impressive."

Her blatant rudeness caught me off guard, but I recovered quickly. "And you are?"

"Amara King," she replied, as if I should already know. "Future Alpha of the King pack."

Now that was genuinely surprising. Female Alphas were rare—our patriarchal society typically passed leadership to the strongest male heir. For this woman to be openly acknowledged as her pack's future leader meant she must be exceptionally powerful.

"Congratulations," I said, meaning it despite her attitude. "That's quite an achievement."

Something flickered in her eyes—surprise at my sincerity, perhaps. "It is," she agreed, studying me with new interest. "Though not everyone sees it that way. Many believe a pack can only be strong with a male Alpha."

"Many people believe a lot of stupid things," I replied, earning a shocked gasp from my mother, who hovered nearby.

Unexpectedly, Amara laughed—a genuine sound that transformed her face. "You're not what I expected either, Blackwood."

As we fell into conversation, I found myself oddly drawn to her confidence, even as I remained wary of her obvious arrogance. When other delegates entered, she stayed by my side, her commentary on each pack's politics both insightful and scathing.

During a lull, curiosity got the better of me. "Do you already know who your mate will be?" I asked. Most wolves her age—she seemed to be in her early twenties—would have been matched at previous hunts.

"I do," she confirmed, something complicated passing across her features. "Though it hasn't been formalized yet."

"Then why come to a hunting party?" I pressed, genuinely confused. "Why not just be with them?"

Amara's expression darkened. "Because my mate is Kieran Stone."

The name dropped like a stone in still water, sending ripples of shock through me. Kieran Stone—the Alpha who had exiled his own father, who had subjugated neighboring packs, whose cruelty was legendary.

"By choice?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"By arrangement," she replied coldly. "His mother died last of last year, and when his father went mad with grief, Kieran challenged him for leadership. The Elders believe our packs joining will create the strongest bloodline the territories have seen in generations."

My horror must have shown on my face, because her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Not everyone fears him as you seem to," she said. "Power attracts, Lena. And Kieran has more of it than any wolf alive."

"Power built on cruelty isn't strength," I argued. "It's just tyranny wearing a crown."

For a moment, something vulnerable flashed in her eyes—doubt, perhaps—but it was quickly masked. "You sound like a human with those ideals," she sneered. "This is wolf society. The strong rule. The weak submit. That's nature's way."

Before I could respond, a commotion outside the window caught our attention. New arrivals were being greeted with unusual deference—members of the Stone Ridge pack, based on their gray and black clothing. My pulse quickened as I wondered if Kieran himself had arrived.

Amara straightened her already perfect posture. "I should go. We'll be formalizing our union tonight, after the hunt." She gave me a final appraising look. "Good luck, Blackwood. You might need it more than most."

As she sashayed away, I felt simultaneously relieved and troubled by our interaction. If someone as strong and confident as Amara was being paired with Kieran Stone without her full consent, what hope did the rest of us have?

The receiving room grew more crowded as the afternoon wore on. I was about to sneak out for some air when I spotted her—a girl about my age standing by the refreshment table, looking as out of place as I felt. Like me, she'd eschewed formal wear for practical clothes: dark jeans, boots, and a leather jacket. Her hair was cut short in a style that would have scandalized the more traditional packs, and she surveyed the room with open skepticism.

I felt an immediate kinship with her rebel spirit.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of formal ceremonies, tense meals, and veiled assessments. By sunset, my face ached from forced smiling, and my patience had worn paper-thin. When I was finally dismissed to prepare for the evening's "festivities," I nearly ran to the private room assigned to me in the guest quarters.

Closing the door behind me, I leaned against it with a sigh of relief. The room was luxurious by pack standards—a large bed with fur blankets, a private bathroom, and a balcony overlooking the forest where the hunt would take place in just a few hours. On any other occasion, I might have appreciated the amenities. Tonight, they felt like gilded bars on a cage.

A soft knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. "Who is it?" I called, wary of any male wolves who might be trying their luck early.

No answer came, just another gentle knock.

Cautiously, I approached the door, inhaling deeply to catch any scent that might have slipped through. Nothing unusual registered. I cracked the door open, ready to slam it shut if necessary.

My jaw dropped in shock as I recognized the figure standing in the dimly lit hallway.

"You?" I gasped, completely blindsided by who stood before me.