Serena Vale could feel the moment her future was being stolen.

The council chamber was filled on both sides, the air thick and tense.

Serena sat beside her father upon the raised dais, her back straight, her chin lifted despite the tension coiling in her chest.

Her father’s hand rested on the polished wood beside hers.

It trembled slightly as she felt it.

The once-unshakable Alpha of Mooncrest looked smaller now, worn down by time and grief.

Below them, the council elders spoke in quiet, careful voices.

They circled the truth like vultures waiting for a dying animal to stop breathing.

Her brother was dead.

Six months had passed, yet the words still felt unreal.

My father's only son was dead…and he had left no heir.

The silence around the table thickened until Elder Hadrien leaned forward, his long beard brushing the front of his robe.

“There is no male heir,” he said calmly.

The words settled over the room like a sentence.

Serena’s fingers curled slightly against the wood.

Male?

That word alone seemed to undermine her.

Hadrien folded his hands together. “For the stability of Mooncrest, we must begin preparing for succession.”

Her father’s voice came slowly, heavy but controlled.

“Succession to whom?”

The elder did not answer immediately. His gaze slid along the table, passing over the other elders as though seeking silent agreement.

Finally, he spoke the name they had clearly rehearsed.

“Damien Blackthorn of Nightfang.”

A quiet ripple moved through the chamber.

Even Serena felt the weight of the name.

Damien Blackthorn.

Stories of the Nightfang heir traveled across every pack in the Dominion. Some spoke of his strength. Others whispered of the ruthless pack he came from, a bloodline known for war and dominance. His name was spoken with equal parts admiration and fear.

Hadrien continued smoothly. “His bloodline is pure. His power unquestioned. If Mooncrest aligns with Nightfang, the pack will endure.”

Serena’s chest tightened.

Would you give my pack to a stranger?

The thought burned so fiercely inside her that she did not realize she had spoken aloud until every head in the chamber turned.

The silence pressed down on her ribs.

But Serena did not look away.

She rose from her seat slowly, storm-gray eyes fixed on the elder.

“I am the rightful heir of this pack”

The words rang clearly through the chamber.

For a moment, there was nothing but stunned quiet.

Then the laughter began.

Low chuckles spread along the council table. One elder leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amusement. Another covered his mouth as though stifling a smile.

Hadrien regarded her with thinly veiled amusement.

“You are spirited, child,” he said. “Perhaps too spirited.”

Serena’s jaw tightened.

“I am my father’s daughter,” she said firmly. “His blood runs in me. If my brother cannot inherit the throne… then I will.”

This time the laughter came louder.

“You?” one elder scoffed.

Another leaned forward, eyes cold. “A throne is not won by temper.”

“You have a womb, girl,” a third added bluntly. “Not a war.”

The words struck like blows.

“You will stand beside a throne,” someone else muttered. “Not sit upon one.”

Serena’s nails dug into the edge of the table.

Her cheeks burned, but she forced herself to meet their eyes.

“I have trained longer than half the sons in this room,” she said, her voice steady despite the fury clawing inside her chest. “I have studied diplomacy, warfare, and leadership since I could walk. I have bled on training grounds while your heirs played at politics.”

The elders watched her with expressions ranging from irritation to mild amusement.

“I can rule.”

Hadrien tilted his head, studying her as though she were an interesting animal rather than a future Alpha.

“Then prove it,” he said lightly.

The room quieted again.

“If you truly believe you stand equal among Alphas,” he continued, “then attend the Alpha Dominion Academy.”

Several elders exchanged glances, smirking.

“If you manage to last a single week among them,” Hadrien added, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “perhaps we will reconsider mocking your… ambitious fantasy.”

The laughter returned, sharper this time.

It crawled over Serena’s skin like claws.