Back in the room,
Drake pulled Vanessa into a warm hug, holding her close before kissing her deeply.
"It's time, babe," he whispered with a soft smile, then gently took her hand and led her toward the door.
Outside the room, they went their separate ways. She was his mate, yes, but by law, she couldn't sit beside him until she was officially crowned Luna, another ceremony that would take place a moon after his coronation.
Drake walked into the court where the council of elders waited. They were dressed in rich robes, smiles lighting up their wrinkled faces. Today, they would step down, and a new era would begin.
"The Grand Alpha!" they called in one voice as he entered.
"May your days be long," they said, kneeling with reverence.
Drake felt a wave of discomfort wash over him. Men old enough to be his father were kneeling before him. It felt strange, unnatural even. He was never trained to be an alpha, never raised for this role. The title had found him, not the other way around.
"Rise," he said, motioning with his staff.
They stood up at once, their hands respectfully folded in front of them.
"Your people await their Grand Alpha," one of them said, the eldest, his head covered in thick grey hair.
They parted to make way, and Drake walked forward with them trailing behind in a straight, dignified line.
As they neared the grand hall, Drake's heartbeat sped up. His fingers twitched nervously. That creepy feeling returned, stronger this time, causing him to stop abruptly.
The elders behind him paused, waiting quietly. Alphas were meant to be brave, strong, confident. He wasn't born an alpha, but the Goddess had chosen him. Surely, she gave him what he needed to lead.
With that thought firm in his mind, he lifted his head and resumed walking, this time with grace, strength, and quiet pride.
"Presenting the Grand Alpha of Crescent Mont Province!" the master of ceremony boomed.
And the hall erupted in cheers.
The singers fell silent, the violinist lowered his bow. Everyone in the grand hall rose to their feet, waiting for his arrival.
Drake took a deep breath and stepped into the long hall. His eyes scanned the crowd until they found Vanessa, standing at the far end. Her smile was warm, reassuring.
"I love you," she mouthed silently.
He gave a faint smile in return and walked forward, his every step steady and full of quiet power. Like royalty, he moved with grace, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders.
When he reached the stage, he stopped in front of a metal basin, letting the smoke rise and curl around his face.
The elders who had entered with him formed a circle around him, arms stretched out as if in silent prayer.
Then a loud bell rang out, sharp and echoing, signaling the arrival of the seers, the spiritual guides entrusted with sanctifying the crown.
The sound hushed the hall. Everyone sat down in unison, and a deep silence settled over the space.
In perfect formation, the seers entered. Their robes were pure white, strange beads clinking softly around their necks and wrists. Each one came from a different pack in the province, carrying their traditions with them.
As they ascended the stage, the elders quietly stepped away to take their seats, leaving the space around Drake to the seers.
The eldest among them, his face worn with age and wisdom, approached the throne and gently lifted the crown. His name is Odell.
He returned to the basin and held the crown over the smoke, letting it absorb the sacred blessing.
Drake's fingers twitched. That crown, soon, it would rest on his head.
"Today, we gather in joy to crown a new Grand Alpha," Odell began, his voice a little shaky but clear. His eyes scanned the audience with calm authority.
"After deep trials and careful testing, the right one was chosen," he continued, his tone slow and steady.
"For the first time in fifty decades, the moon smiles upon us again. And I—" he paused with a small chuckle, "I'm lucky enough not to be dead yet, so I get to witness this."
A quiet wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, breaking the tension just enough.
Then the hall stilled again as the ceremony continued.
Somewhere in the province, a convoy of cars sped down the winding road. Inside one of them, Ephraim Ruger sat stiffly, his face a storm cloud of anger.
"That crown must never touch his head. Step on it!" he barked, his voice like thunder cracking through the car. The driver flinched, while the man beside him visibly shrank into his seat.
"We'll get there in time, sir," the man in the passenger seat tried to sound confident.
"We better!" Ephraim growled, his fists trembling on his lap. "If they finish that stupid ceremony and crown him, it's all over. Everything I've worked for, gone!"
He had waited for this day, plotted it for months, and now it was slipping through his fingers because of a car breakdown. Of all the ridiculous things. Two of their vehicles had stalled halfway, forcing them to stop, fix the engines, and waste precious time.
"I swear, if this plan fails, you're all fired! I pay you people, generously, I might add, not to ruin the only day that matters!"
His chest heaved with fury, his wolf scratching at the surface, demanding to be let out. But not yet. It wasn't time.
"Seize the seers. Force the crown onto your own head," whispered a dark voice in his mind. The one who had given him power.
Ephraim snatched up his phone and dialed.
"Talk," he snapped the moment it connected.
"It's started, boss," the voice on the other end said. "Where are you?"
"Close. Very close," Ephraim replied, grinding his teeth.
"What happened?"
"The people I pay every damn month suddenly forgot how to do their jobs!" he spat. "How hard is it to keep a car running?!"
"The seer's taking his sweet time. He talks like he's reading bedtime stories. His age might just buy you a few minutes. You'll make it," the voice tried to reassure him.
Ephraim ended the call without another word, then let out a growl that rattled the windows.
"Faster!" he bellowed.
"If I go any faster, we'll fly off the road!" the driver shouted, gripping the wheel.
"Then grow wings, fool!" Ephraim snapped.
Ephraim turned in his seat and glanced out the back window. The other cars were still close, matching their speed. He gave a tight nod, pleased. At least some things were working right.
"I can see the venue," the driver said suddenly.
Ephraim let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Finally.
Three minutes later, the convoy screeched to a halt in front of the grand hall. One by one, doors flew open and the men stepped out. Dressed in black from head to toe, with weapons hidden under their belts, they looked more like assassins than guests.
"Hurry," Ephraim ordered, waving them forward.
They moved quickly, their boots thudding against the marble as they stormed toward the entrance.
Inside the hall, everything was still.
The seer stood tall at the stage, the silver crown glinting faintly in his wrinkled hands.
"Today," the old seer declared, his voice steady despite his age, "in the presence of all, and under the guidance of Selene, I hereby pronounce you, Drake Campbell, the Grand Alpha of the Crescent Mont Province."
Drake turned to face him, doing exactly what he had been taught. His heart pounded rapidly.
The seer raised the crown. Drake's hands clenched at his sides.
And then, the crown touched his head.
Suddenly, crash!
The sound of shattering glass shrilled through the air, followed by panic screams.
The hall exploded into chaos.