Chapter 9 Chapter 9: Blood Oath

Monday morning, I'm at work by six, trying to pretend the last seventy-two hours didn't happen. Marcus takes one look at me and frowns.

"You look like hell. Where were you this weekend?"

"Tracking. Following up on the wolf situation." Not entirely a lie.

"Alone?"

"With... a wildlife consultant. Someone with predator expertise." Getting smoother at this.

Marcus's eyes narrow. "This consultant has a name?"

"Henry Blackthorn. He's been helping with pattern analysis." I busy myself with paperwork, avoiding his gaze.

"Blackthorn." Marcus tests the name. "Never heard of him. He licensed?"

"He's more of an independent expert. Keeps a low profile."

"Uh-huh." Marcus crosses his arms, leaning against my desk. "Luna, we've been partners for three years. I know when you're hiding something. And you've been hiding a lot lately."

My phone buzzes. Hawk: Rogue sighting two miles from the station. Stay inside.

My hands go cold. "Marcus, I need you to trust me. Something big is happening, and I'm working on it, but I can't explain right now. Can you just... trust me?"

He studies me for a long moment. Finally, he nods. "Fine. But whatever you're into, you don't face it alone. That's non-negotiable."

"Deal."

Warden Blackwood appears in the doorway, his weathered face grim. "Pierce, Webb—briefing room. Now. We've got a situation."

The briefing room is packed. Every ranger, plus two county sheriff's deputies, I don't recognize. Blackwood stands at the front, and behind him is a map covered in red markers—so many more than last week.

"We've had twenty new livestock kills in the past seventy-two hours," Blackwood announces. "Different ranches, different areas, but the same MO. Clean kills, coordinated attacks, and large wolf tracks. The county commissioner is breathing down my neck. The media's calling it an epidemic. And as of this morning, we have authorization for lethal removal."

My stomach drops. "Lethal removal? We haven't exhausted other options—"

"We're past options, Pierce." Blackwood's voice is hard. "These aren't normal wolves. The tracks suggest pack coordination beyond anything documented in this region. And yesterday, a hiker reported being stalked by what she described as 'wolves the size of bears.' We can't risk human casualties."

"Give me one more week," I hear myself say. "My consultant has identified unusual patterns. We think two different packs are operating—one native, one invasive. If we can identify the invasive pack's territory, we can target removal specifically instead of killing indiscriminately."

It's a desperate gambit, buying time while we deal with Viktor.

Blackwood considers this. "You have three days, Pierce. Seventy-two hours to give me actionable intelligence. After that, we're authorizing hunters. Clear?"

"Clear."

The meeting dissolves into logistics. As I'm leaving, Marcus grabs my arm. "Two packs? Is that real, or are you stalling?"

"It's real. The native pack isn't the problem—they've been here for generations, living peacefully. It's the rogues causing chaos, trying to frame the residents and start a war."

"And your consultant knows this, how?"

"He's been tracking them for months. Has evidence." More lies, smoother each time.

Marcus's expression is troubled, but he lets me go.

I text Hawk immediately: We have 72 hours before hunters come. Need to move on, Viktor NOW.

His response: Pack council meeting tonight. We're accelerating the raid. Be here by sunset.

The day drags. Every minute feels like an hour, every hour like a day. When my shift finally ends, I drive straight to the compound, barely remembering the route.

The main lodge is packed—every adult pack member present, plus some I haven't met yet. The tension is thick enough to choke on.

Hawk stands at the center, radiating alpha authority. When I enter, his eyes find mine immediately, and the mate bond surges with recognition and relief.

"Luna. Good. We're discussing the Silvercrest assault." He gestures to a hand-drawn map on the table. "Viktor's pack has taken over an abandoned mine system fifteen miles north. Derek's reconnaissance confirms at least twenty rogues, maybe more. They're using the mines as a base, stockpiling supplies, planning something big."

"Chemical enhancements," Sage adds, her frost-colored eyes meeting mine. "We've confirmed Viktor's using banned substances to artificially strengthen his wolves. It makes them more aggressive, harder to kill, but also unstable. They're essentially manufactured super-predators."

"Which means," Hawk continues, "a direct assault is suicide. We need a strategy. We need to divide their forces, isolate Viktor, cut off their supply lines."

"And we need to do it before federal hunters arrive," I add. Every wolf turns to stare at me. "I bought us seventy-two hours. After that, human hunters with legal kill authorization will flood these mountains. They won't distinguish between Viktor's pack and yours. They'll just see wolves and shoot."

The room erupts. Wolves are arguing, some advocating for immediate assault, others wanting to flee the territory entirely.

"Enough!" Hawk's voice cracks like thunder. Instant silence. "We don't run. This is our territory, protected for three centuries. We fight smart, we fight together, and we end Viktor's threat before humans get involved. That's final."

Sage steps forward. "There's another complication. The Werewolf Council has sent an arbiter. He arrives tomorrow to assess the situation and determine if our pack leadership is... stable."

"Stable?" I ask.

"They've heard about the human mate. About the internal tensions. About Viktor's claims that Hawk's judgment is compromised." Sage's expression is carefully neutral. "If the arbiter rules against us, the Council can force leadership change. Or worse, dissolve the pack entirely."

"They can do that?"

"They can do anything. Council law supersedes the pack law." Derek speaks up from the back. "And if they decide Hawk's mate bond makes him unfit to lead, they'll install a new alpha. Probably someone sympathetic to Viktor's cause."

The implications crash over me like cold water. This isn't just about stopping Viktor. It's about proving the mate bond isn't a weakness. Proving I'm not a liability.

"Then we prove them wrong," I say, surprised by the steel in my own voice. "We stop Viktor, we protect the territory, and we show the Council that this pack is stronger than ever. Starting with me."

Hawk's eyebrows rise. "Luna—"

"I need to complete the claiming ceremony. Soon. Before the arbiter arrives." I look around the room, meeting eyes—some supportive, many skeptical. "I know I'm human. I know I'm weak by your standards. But I'm choosing this. Choosing you, choosing pack. Make it official."

The room explodes again. Some wolves support it, others call it reckless. But one voice rises above the rest.

"I challenge that decision."

Natalia steps into the center of the circle. She's beautiful—long dark hair, amber eyes, fighter's build. And the way she looks at Hawk, with years of longing and expectation, makes my chest tight.

"You want to be Alpha's mate?" Natalia continues, her voice carrying to every corner. "Prove you're worthy. I invoke Pack Law, article seven: the right to challenge for position. Trial by combat. You and me, Luna Pierce. Winner stands as alpha's mate."

My mouth goes dry. Through the bond, I feel Hawk's fury and fear warring.

"Natalia, this is unnecessary—" Sage starts.

"No, it's pack law. She wants to be claimed? She earns it. Or she submits and walks away." Natalia's eyes bore into mine. "What's it going to be, human?"

Every instinct screams to back down. Sage told me to submit if challenged. But if I submit now, I prove Viktor right—that I'm weak, that the mate bond compromises Hawk's leadership.

"I accept," I hear myself say. "But on one condition—we complete the claiming ceremony first. Then you can challenge me."

Natalia smiles. It's not pleasant. "Agreed. Tonight. Sunset. And Luna? I hope you've made peace with your gods."

The council disperses into urgent conversations. Hawk pulls me aside, his face pale.

"You can't fight her. She's been training since childhood. She'll destroy you."

"Then I get destroyed. But I won't back down. Not now." I grip his hands. "Hawk, if I submit to her before we're bonded, it proves the Council right. But if I'm claimed, if I'm officially packed, then win or lose, I've proven my commitment. That has to count for something."

"It counts for nothing if you're dead!"

"She won't kill me. Sage said ritual combat isn't—"

"Usually it isn't fatal. Usually. But Natalia wanted to be my mate for a century. She's not going to hold back." His hands cup my face desperately. "Luna, please. Think about this."

"I have. This is the only move that makes sense." I press my forehead to his. "Trust me. And teach me everything you can in the next four hours."

What follows is the most brutal afternoon of my life. Hawk and Sage take turns drilling me—dirty tactics, weak points, desperate moves. By sunset, I'm covered in bruises, moving on pure adrenaline.

River helps me into the ceremonial dress—simple white fabric that feels more like a sacrifice outfit than wedding attire. My hands won't stop shaking.

"Hey," she says softly. "You've got this. The ceremony is beautiful. Painful, but beautiful."

"And then I get my ass kicked by a jealous ex."

"Probably. But you'll survive. And survival's what matters." She shows me her own wrist, where delicate scars form a crescent moon pattern. "That's my mate Mark. Appeared when I bonded with Thomas. Burned like fire, but in the best way."

The sun touches the horizon when Sage comes to collect me. "It's time."