The night bled into a spectacle of power and hunger.
The great hall of the Moonlight Pack was overflowing with werewolves of high rank, every one of them dressed in ceremonial garbs, their auras heavy enough to choke the Omegas that bowed along the walls. Tonight was no ordinary gathering. Tonight, they would choose an Alpha King...a ruler above rulers.
The elders sat in a semicircle on the dais, their faces carved with age and suspicion. Every cough, every side-glance from them felt like a sentence being written. Their job was to observe, to judge, to crown. But everyone in the hall knew the ceremony would not be clean. This wasn’t politics. This wasn’t diplomacy. This was blood, sweat, and survival.
The Omegas filed in, their bare feet silent on the polished stone floor. Dancers....yo
