Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted

Alphas arguing with alphas is nothing but a waste of time.

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The dregs of cold coffee stick in my throat as I set my mug down with a thud. Fuck, I’m exhausted. My eyelids feel like sandpaper against my eyes, and I rub at them with the futile hope of easing the discomfort.

Forty-eight hours.

Two damn days since I’ve seen the inside of my eyelids for more than a blink.

I haven’t had a chance to even speak a single word with Ava. Not even a text.

It’s impossible to keep her a secret forever, but without knowing how far I can trust these other alphas—bringing her into this mess is a risk I refuse to take.

The last thing I need is for the Council to push back and demand that Ava be returned to Alpha Blackwood in order to prevent any more vampire attacks.

Jericho’s worries have set root in my belly, growing an entire forest of doubt and concern. He’s right. Ava’s not enough of a reason to breach the peace we’ve upheld for so long. Far longer than any of our lifetimes.

There’s something else there. Something I was too blind to see. And we need to act.

Now. Before any other tragedies come to be.

The stink of unrest taints the air, setting my teeth on edge.

I glance across the conference table, meeting Clayton’s steely gaze. He’s been the ally in my corner, standing steadfast beside me in my concerns.

Even Alpha Xavier, our strongest ally in the Council, isn’t convinced that there’s a concern to the entire territory. Oh, he believes that there’s danger—at my front door.

He thinks it’s as simple as reinforcing our boundaries in Blackwood and Westwood. As sending a few troops of fighters to shore up our numbers.

But everything inside of me, inside my wolf, screams that he’s wrong.

There’s a war coming for all of us, and anyone who isn’t ready will be slaughtered without a chance to fight back. We’ve already witnessed how easily they can invade our lands and fight when we’re vulnerable, caught with our fucking pants down.

Those blood-sucking leeches crossing into Westwood territory, bold as brass, are just the beginning. A first strike in a war that can bring us all to our knees.

But convincing the rest of these stubborn old bastards? It’s like herding cats. Suspicious, prideful, territorial cats, who’d rather bury their heads in the sand than acknowledge the danger breathing down our necks.

Xavier clears his throat, his rumbling baritone cutting through the murmured side conversations.

"Let’s get this meeting back on track. We’ve argued enough. Alpha Westwood, state your request again, and we’ll vote once more."

I push to my feet, the chair groaning across the floor. All eyes snap to me.

This stalemate needs to end.

"The encroachment on Westwood land is no isolated incident. It’s calculated. Deliberate. A test of our defenses, of our ability to react. It’s the first steps of war. We are all at risk.

Westwood is nothing more than the first step to whatever goal they seek."

A scoff from the end of the table—a neutral party in Alpha Ezekial Talon of Whispering Pines. He was friend to both Xavier’s Silvermoon pack and that bastard Blackwood, with his territory between both.

He’s older, fully gray in his hair with wrinkles and scars all across his face. Even so, it’s a testament to his power that no alpha challenge has unseated him in all these years.

He’s showing his true colors of late, despite having helped Xavier during my attack on Blackwood. Of course, then we had only asked him to turn a blind eye. Here, we’re asking for action.

Neutrality always sounds moral. Waiting to hear both sides of the story, refusing to take sides in a personal battle…

But neutrality is also cowardice.

He’s waiting to see what benefits his pack the most, instead of acting in the best interest of all.

"You’re paranoid, Westwood," he drawls. "A few Unregistereds step out of line and suddenly it’s Armageddon? We’ve dealt with their kind for centuries. It’s nothing new. They’ve been holed up in their little sanctuaries for so long, I’m surprised they haven’t all turned into dust. With our numbers and strength, we could crush them in a moment."

I clench my fists, biting back the growl building in my chest. Shortsighted fools.

"It’s different this time," Clayton interjects smoothly. "They’re able to move without detection, to appear and disappear at will. They’re striking without warning, and we have no way of fighting back. No matter how strong we are, it’s like fighting ghosts."

The same argument that we’ve been making for two goddamn days, falling on deaf ears.

"We’d be wise not to underestimate the threat," I agree, between clenched teeth.

"You’re just repeating yourselves. Alpha Westwood, what is your proposal?" This from Alpha Twilight Ridge, an older woman with a shrewd gaze. She’s old enough that no one remembers her given name, only addressing her by title. One of the few female alphas in the country.

I meet her stare head-on. "We need to shore up our defenses. Coordinate our efforts. Present a united front before they—"

"What does that entail, Alpha Westwood? There’s no point in arguing about the hypotheticals. What I want to know is what you expect from Twilight Ridge moving forward."

I take a deep breath, fighting back the urge to slam my fist into the mahogany table. The wolf inside me snarls, hackles raised, ready for a fight. But I force myself to breathe through it, to push down the rage bubbling in my veins. Losing my temper here won’t do any good. It’ll only prove their point that I’m too young, too inexperienced to handle this.

I’ve given them all this answer several times over the past two days.

And I give it again.

Through gritted teeth.

Plastering professionalism all over my face, even as my wolf snarls in my head.