The Rejected Mate (Elaine and Michael) novel Chapter 120

The Council Hall of the Allied Packs stood like an ancient titan carved from black stone, towering above the valley. Its pillars—wolf-shaped and weather-worn—seemed to watch every visitor who approached, judging them long before the council elders inside even could.

Storm clouds churned overhead, muting the sunlight into a cold, iron-gray wash. Lightning flickered behind the mountains, illuminating the hall’s runes in eerie, rhythmic pulses. The air was thick with ozone and old magic, humming faintly against the skin, prickling the senses of every wolf present.

Darius, Elaine, and Nathan approached the enormous staircase that led toward the entrance. Warriors from Crescent Moon marched behind them in perfect formation, Their silver-and-black armor glimmered faintly in the cool blue light of the torches adorning the hall’s outer walls. The resonance of their synchronized steps echoed like the steady beat of a war drum against the stone, a testament to their unwavering resolve. Crescent Moon did not yield to fear. Not in the presence of kings, not in the face of enemies, and certainly not before the Council.

With a deep, groaning rumble, the great doors swung open, as if the very mountain itself was exhaling a long-held breath.

Inside, the Council Chamber unfolded as a circular cavern, its obsidian walls polished to a reflective sheen that mirrored the flickering flames. Blue flames danced within the torch sconces, casting an ethereal glow that illuminated the faces of the twelve alphas seated upon their formidable stone thrones. Each chair bore intricate carvings of ancient symbols, signifying the unique legacies and powers of their respective packs.

As the sound of their footsteps echoed in the chamber, every elder lifted their gaze, acknowledging the presence of the newcomers.

Alpha Darius of Crescent Moon.

Luna Elaine of Crescent Moon.

And Nathan—only three years old, his small hand clutching a carved wolf toy, the future alpha of their pack, innocent yet caught in the tumult of adult conflicts.

A wave of whispers rippled through the chamber like a sudden gust of wind.

“They brought the child?”

“Why put him in danger here?”

“This can only complicate matters…”

Elaine held her chin high, her posture radiating quiet determination, even as she felt Nathan’s small fingers tighten around hers in anxiety. Darius strode ahead, embodying the essence of a warrior king—unyielding and resolute. His mere presence seemed to quell the brewing storm within the hall.

Across the chamber, the Silverblade wolves were already assembled.

Calvin sat rigidly, his shoulders tense, his gaze locked onto a fixed point on the floor. Kathy, pale and trembling, clutched her hands tightly, as if trying to hold herself together. And at the far right of the Silverblade delegation sat Michael.

Or what was left of him.

His wolf was dangerously close to breaking free, the primal instincts simmering just beneath the surface. His irises had vanished entirely, replaced by the abyssal black of a feral wolf. The muscles in his jaw clenched so tightly that they quivered beneath his skin, and his fingers dug into the edge of the stone table, fracturing it with a slow, agonizing creak.

The moment Elaine and Darius crossed the threshold, Michael’s wolf snarled—not with a loud roar, but with a deep, resonant growl that vibrated through the ground, as if warning of an impending earthquake.

Elaine stood her ground, unwavering.

Darius remained stoic, his eyes fixed ahead.

The Council Speaker, Alpha Rowan—an elder of the Northern Ridge pack—rose to his feet. His silver hair cascaded past his shoulders, and his eyes, sharp and cold as winter steel, surveyed the assembly with a commanding presence.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify