PROJECT: CAYRO

Cayro Bracton

October 20, 2025

08:45 EST

Lycotonu Manor

Pigeon Forge, NC

I stood in Zak’s kitchen, sipping a mug of strong coffee, watching my friend as he made last-minute preparations for the council meeting. He’d lent me a dark grey button-down shirt that, paired with my black cargo pants, made me look more like I was attending a funeral than an important political gathering. The shirt was slightly too big, hiding my frame and making me look less imposing, or at least that’s what Zak said. He knew the game we were about to play with the council better than I did.

The girls were still getting ready, with Aura having insisted on handling Star’s appearance. Star was reluctant, naturally, but I reassured her that Aura wouldn’t cause too much trouble. At least, I hoped. Knowing Star’s temper and her... inclination toward revenge, I half-expected things to go sideways at some point. But, surprisingly, I hadn’t heard any shouting, screaming, or snarling yet, so things were probably going better than I’d anticipated.

As I finished my coffee, Aura strolled out of her and Zak’s bedroom, her grin stretching from ear to ear. I arched an eyebrow, instantly suspicious. I glanced at Zak, who was already rubbing his temples, his expression full of irritation.

“Aura... the idea was to make them look less like a threat to the council,” Zak grumbled, clearly annoyed.

“Fuck the council. I’m sick of their bullshit games,” Aura shot back, blunt as ever. That was Aura for you—no filter, no tact, no patience when she was annoyed.

I eyed her cautiously. “Should I be concerned with what you did to Star?”

Aura smirked and shrugged innocently. “Cayro, have I ever done you wrong?”

“Well… no,” I admitted, though I wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Then why would I treat Star any differently?” she retorted.

Before I could respond, Star entered the kitchen—and my jaw hit the floor.

She was wearing a crimson red, tight-fitting dress that hugged her figure in a way that made my heart skip a beat. Her eyes were outlined in smoky eyeliner, making her gaze seem even more intense, her amethyst eyes burning beneath the shadow. She wore lipstick that matched her dress perfectly, her lips pulled into a thin, dangerous line as she glared at Aura. But what really grabbed my attention was her hair. The lilac streak that I knew she loved so much—gone. Instead, her hair was all one dark shade, slicked back in a way that only made her fury more evident.

“What did you do to her hair?” I asked, a little more cautiously now.

“She dyed it,” Star growled, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

"You dyed her streak?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yep," Aura responded with a smug grin.

“But why?” I pressed.

“Normally, I’m all for different hair colors,” Aura explained. “But today, we need to show strength. The council’s a bunch of stuffy assholes, and we don’t need to give them any ammunition.”

“But my hair…” Star snarled.

“It’ll grow back,” Aura said dismissively.

“That’s not the point! It’s going to look ridiculous as it grows out. I’ll have a patch of purple…” Star complained, glaring at me as if I were somehow responsible for this hair disaster.

“Wait—what do you mean?” I asked, confused. “Can’t you just dye it back?”

“That wasn’t hair dye, Cayro. That was my natural hair color!” she snapped.

Everyone in the room froze. Even Aura looked shocked. “Your natural hair color?” she repeated.

“Yes,” Star grumbled, clearly not thrilled with the revelation or the reactions.

Aura's eyes widened, and she mouthed the word "oops" before grabbing my arm. Without another word, she dragged me out of the kitchen.

“Aura, what are you doing?” I asked, bewildered.

“Fixing your appearance. You need to match your wife,” she said, not giving me a chance to protest.

Ten minutes later, we reemerged from the bedroom. Star was pacing like a caged beast, her expression a mix of rage and annoyance. Zak stood by the hallway entrance, arms crossed, looking like he was guarding the gates of hell. As soon as Star saw me, she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise.

Aura had slicked my hair back with some sort of gel, giving me a more polished, refined look. She’d made me swap out the grey shirt for a tight-fitting black one that clung to my frame, accentuating my muscles. A green kerchief now rested neatly in my breast pocket, and stainless steel cufflinks gleamed at my wrists. I was still wearing my cargo pants, but she’d swapped my usual shoes for a pair of polished black logger boots.

When I asked Aura where she managed to get all the clothes, she simply smiled and said, “Queen.” I rolled my eyes but didn’t press further as we stepped back into the kitchen. Aura then quickly dragged Zak to their bedroom vanishing out of sight. Star was still standing there, staring at me with a gleam in her eye, biting her lower lip. I could feel my face heat up slightly.

“What?” I asked quietly.

“You look…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Devastatingly handsome,” she finally said, her gaze trailing down my body.

I arched an eyebrow. “Says the drop-dead gorgeous woman currently eyeing me like a prize.”

Star flashed a devious smile and sauntered up to me, her arms draping around my neck. She leaned in, nipping at my chin playfully, clearly enjoying the feel of my unshaven face. “I really like this look on you,” she purred, her fingers tracing the stubble on my cheek.

“You do?”

“Mmm, yes. You look… intimidating, and less boyish. Keep the beard, please?” she asked softly, the request filled with warmth.

“I might just have to, especially seeing you dressed up like this,” I murmured, noting her black iridescent nail polish. “You look... powerful.”

Star grinned wickedly, her voice dropping low. “I think I could get used to dressing up for you.”

I smiled, holding her closer. The new boots made me tower over her a few extra inches, and I couldn’t help but think how perfectly we fit together. As we stood there, lost in each other’s presence, I could feel our bond pulsing between us, wrapping us in an unspoken connection. I wanted to stay like that forever, wrapped in her, in the quiet energy of just being together.

A few minutes later, Zak and Aura finally reappeared. Aura’s voice broke the peaceful moment. “See, I told you,” she said in a giddy tone.

“Well, at least they’re still dressed,” Zak replied with a wry grin.

I reluctantly broke the connection and turned to face him. “Why wouldn’t we be dressed?” I asked, slightly confused.

Zak smirked. “Bro, we can smell both of your arousals from our room.”

I froze, my mind blank. “I… uh… we weren’t…” I stammered.

“Relax,” Zak chuckled. “It’s not that kind of arousal. It’s the scent of your bond. When two wolves bond, their scents change and start to merge. To you, it’ll smell like home, like safety. But to others, it smells… like a kind of arousal. Right now, you two smell like a smoky forest and a wind-swept ocean.”

Star’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, and I could feel the heat rising to my face again.

“Oh…” Star muttered, clearly embarrassed.

Aura grinned slyly. “Now that you two lovebirds are done, we need to get going.”

Zak and Aura were dressed similarly to us, though Aura’s dress was a deeper red with a subtle black sheen, her makeup giving her the same fierce look as Star. Zak and I matched as well, except he had a black kerchief in his breast pocket and a set of dark wraparound shades. He exuded power, authority, and handed me a matching pair of shades.

“Put them on,” he said, his voice serious.

It hadn’t taken long to drive to the North American Wolf Council (NAWC) headquarters from Zak and Aura’s place. We arrived in Zak’s sleek black Ford F250 Superduty, stepping out in near synchronization as we made our way toward the entrance. Two men in sharp suits, looking like they could be Secret Service agents, opened the doors for us, their aviator sunglasses hiding any hint of expression.

Zak had briefed us earlier to stay a step behind them and mimic their movements. Star looped her arm through mine, walking on my right side, perfectly in sync with me. We kept our faces forward, matching Zak and Aura’s regal stride. The two suited men saluted Zak and Aura as they passed, only dropping their hands after Star and I crossed through.

We strode down the hall toward two massive dark oak doors, which opened inward as we approached, the low creak of the wood echoing in the chamber. Inside, a group of nine werewolves—men and women who seemed to be around the age of my grandfather—stood or sat around a large circular table. The room’s atmosphere felt dense, like the quiet before a storm. Three of them, seated at the far end, met our entrance with challenging stares, not even bothering to stand. The rest, standing, were hunched over the table, muttering among themselves.

Zak stopped us just inside the room, his presence filling the space. He slowly removed his shades, locking eyes with the three who remained seated. His voice was a low growl, laden with menace. "Do you really want to test my patience today?"

The three council members shifted slightly, but none rose. I saw Zak’s body tighten, and Aura’s growl cut through the silence, sharp and dangerous.

"You are in the presence of four Lycotonu and a direct descendant of the Zaraki lineage,” Aura snarled, her voice dripping with contempt. “I suggest you show some fucking respect."

A tense moment hung in the air as the three locked eyes with our group, but they eventually stood, their movements begrudging and stiff. Their postures screamed defiance, but they knew better than to push Aura any further. Zak led us around the table, gesturing for me to take a seat beside him, while Aura motioned for Star to sit next to her. The air felt charged, every movement deliberate. I slipped off my shades, setting them on the table in front of me.

“Sit,” Zak commanded, his voice cold.

The council members all took their seats, their eyes flicking between Star and me, curious but calculating. I could feel their judgment, weighing us, trying to determine why Zak had brought us here. On a typical day, Zak and I might not appear closely related, but today—with our matching dark attire and identical bearing—we could have easily passed as brothers.

"Lord Lycotonu, who are these two that you’ve brought with you?" One of the older men, sitting at the table’s edge, spoke in a respectful tone, though the undercurrent of suspicion was clear.

Zak’s response was measured, but carried a distinct edge. "Good morning, Alpha Malachi. This is Cayro Jacob Bracton," he gestured toward me. "And this is Star Tabitha Zaraki." His eyes flicked toward Star, and I immediately caught the low growl rumbling from her throat at the mention of her middle name.

I turned to her, shaking my head slightly. Not here. Not now. They had noticed.

Zak, too, caught her reaction and gave a thin-lipped smile. “I highly recommend you refrain from using Star’s middle name if you value your dignity,” he said, his tone icy.

Alpha Malachi’s head dipped ever so slightly. “Noted.”

But one of the seated women, with an arrogant smirk, leaned forward. “Why are members of Team SAF sitting in our council chamber?” Her voice carried a sharpness that grated on me, and I sensed the challenge in her words. She was one of the three who hadn’t stood for Zak and Aura.

Zak didn’t miss a beat. "Good morning, Luna Cathrine. They are here due to their… unique situation."

"And that is?" Luna Cathrine’s tone remained confrontational, eyes narrowing.

I saw Zak’s eyebrow twitch with irritation, his patience wearing thin. His response came with a growl of warning. "They are descendants of the Lycotonu bloodline, which makes them my family. They’re here under my protection, from threats we have handled in the past." His voice cut through the room like a blade, daring her to challenge him further.

Her next words were filled with disbelief and venom. “The daughter of Dr. Zaraki, a Lycotonu? And the son of the war hero Jacob Bracton? How could that possibly be?”

Before Zak could respond, the large oak doors behind us slammed open. My father strolled in as though he owned the place, his presence turning the room’s tension into something far more dangerous.

“Dr. Cantu Maddox!” one of the council members, an older man with a deep voice, shouted. “How dare you interrupt a council meeting!”

My father’s response was cold and dismissive. “Shut your yap, Draven Blackthorn, or I’ll shut it for you.”

Draven rose halfway from his seat, fury burning in his eyes. “I’d like to see you try!”

Before my father could reply, one of the council members next to Draven leapt from his chair, shifting mid-air into his werewolf form. But he never made it to the floor. In one fluid motion, my father’s hand flashed to his side, drawing a thin, gleaming blade that severed the werewolf’s head from his body. The decapitated corpse dropped to the ground with a thud, blood pooling beneath it. The head rolled to a stop at my father’s feet. Without a glance, he kicked it aside, wiping the blood from his blade before sheathing it.

The room fell into stunned silence. No one else moved.

Zak didn’t flinch. “Impeccable timing, Dr. Bracton.” His voice carried a note of approval as if this was nothing more than another day at the office.

The council's gaze darted between my father and me, realization dawning on them—the man who had just killed one of their own was my father.

"As always, Lord Lycotonu," my father replied, his tone dark and calm. “That was your spy.”

Zak’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Much appreciated. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Luna Cathrine, you were questioning how Star and Cayro are Lycotonu?”

Luna Cathrine’s face paled, her eyes widening as the weight of the situation pressed down on her. Her earlier arrogance melted into submission as she dipped her head low. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered, clearly rattled by the sudden display of violence and the dangerous unpredictability in the air.

Zak barely acknowledged her before continuing. “The person you want to question is sitting right there,” he said, gesturing toward my father with a casual wave of his hand.

With all eyes on him, my father leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. “I heard the question before I walked in, so I’ll answer it.” His voice was calm, detached, as though discussing an everyday occurrence rather than the twisted science experiment that defined my life. “When Star and Cayro were five, I merged Director Staroko’s DNA with theirs. Effectively, I created hybrids.”

The room was split in two. Half of the council members appeared utterly shocked, faces frozen in disgust or bewilderment, as if they couldn’t believe what they had just heard. The other half—including Alpha Malachi—remained calm, unflinching, as though they had already known, or at least suspected. Malachi’s eyes scanned the room, watching the reactions, the subtle shifts in posture and expression. He wasn’t here to be surprised. He was here to assess.

"Why on earth would you do that to a child?" one of the female council members asked, her tone dripping with disbelief. "And Lycotonu blood? For hybrids?"

The disdain in her voice was clear, but my father didn’t even blink. “For protection,” he said flatly. “And I won’t be giving you any further details on that.”

Luna Cathrine let out a derisive scoff, clearly not satisfied with his answer. “Protection? Protection from what? Why would a human need that kind of protection?”

In response, my father lazily pointed to the decapitated body still lying on the floor near his feet. Luna Cathrine’s face drained of color again as she realized the meaning behind his gesture. There was no denying the message now—he was protecting me from this world, from people like them, who viewed power as a game and lives as pieces on a board. I could feel the same realization dawning in me as well. The hidden world of the supernatural was far more brutal and unforgiving than I had ever imagined.

Zak’s voice cut through the room, calm but commanding. “That’s enough. Dr. Bracton has answered your question. He does not answer to this council, nor will he be judged by it. The DNA was given freely, and its use was fully understood by its owner. What’s done is done, and there’s no going back.”

The tension in the room shifted again, growing darker as a deep, booming voice from one of the seated council members spoke up. “Lord Lycotonu, if you see Cayro Bracton as your brother, then you know what this means. Our society demands you challenge him. We need to affirm who is strongest between the two of you.”

Zak tilted his head, a slow, deliberate motion, before turning to face me. His lips curled into a half-grin, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Cayro,” he said with mock seriousness, “do you want to be the King of the Wolves and run the North American Wolf Council?”

I gave him a look that said he’d clearly lost his mind. “Are you out of your goddamned mind? Dealing with one werewolf is already a headache—and that one’s my friend.” I said hinting at Lyra. “They aren't. Besides, I can already tell some of these council members are trying to undermine you and Aura. I don’t need to get involved in your pack’s bullshit. We’ve got enough on our plate with the US government after us.”

There was a murmur from the council, but Alpha Malachi let out a low chuckle, nodding approvingly. “Well said, Mr. Bracton.”

Star leaned forward, her voice cutting through the growing tension. “We’re not here to dethrone anyone. Zak and Aura invited us for protection.”

Before anyone else could respond, Draven Blackthorn—the same man who had yelled at my father earlier—spoke again, his tone dripping with condescension. “You are neither Alpha nor Luna, girl. You will only speak when addressed.”

That was it. I didn’t even think before my growl tore through the room, joining the deep, menacing sound rumbling from Star’s throat. Zak’s hand shot out, gripping my arm, trying to hold me back. But when I turned to look at him, my teeth bared, he let go. There was no stopping me now.

I stood, my body radiating raw power, and locked eyes with Draven, my own feral instincts clawing their way to the surface. “You dare challenge me, boy?” Draven spat, rising to his feet and shifting into his wolf form. He was massive, his fur a dark, almost black shade of grey, towering over me.

“Alpha Blackthorn,” Malachi said, his tone bored and disinterested, “I suggest you sit down.”

But Draven was beyond listening. “Shut it, Malachi. I won’t let an insolent bitch speak to me without permission, nor will I let this so-called hybrid think he can challenge me,” he snarled.

Malachi shrugged, sitting back in his chair. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Zak sighed, stepping back as the council members quickly moved, sliding their chairs and table to the side, creating a wide open space in the center of the room. I could see Star straining against Aura’s grip, her body vibrating with fury as she tried to rush forward.

“What kind of challenge is this?” Star demanded, her voice trembling with rage.

Aura’s response was calm but filled with worry. “To the death.”

The words hung in the air, a cold finality settling over the room.

I allowed my feral instincts to take full control, my body shifting as much as it could—small but powerful changes. My canines elongated, my muscles tightening beneath my skin. I stepped into the open space, my eyes locked on the hulking wolf in front of me.

Draven’s mocking laughter echoed around the room. “Is that all you can shift?” he taunted. “You’re no Lycotonu. A true Lycotonu has a wolf form, not this pathetic display.”

But he didn’t see the dangerous gleam in my eyes, nor the beast coiling within me, ready to strike.

I bared my teeth at the arrogant monster, allowing a grin to crawl across my face—the same grin Star wore when she was planning something especially devious. That did the trick. The smile drained from Alpha Blackthorn’s face as it dawned on him that fear wasn’t part of my equation. After everything I had gone through, all the pain, all the uncertainty, I needed this. A good fight.

The tension hung heavy in the air, until Zak cleared his throat, slicing through it. “As per custom and tradition, any challenger who is not a werewolf is allowed one handicap to level the playing field,” Zak declared, his voice thick with authority.

Blackthorn’s lip curled in disgust, his claws scraping the floor as he spun toward Zak. “If he’s truly a Lycotonu, he doesn’t need a handicap.”

Zak tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Didn’t you just claim he wasn’t Lycotonu? You can’t have it both ways. You said yourself he can’t shift.” Zak’s words hit like a hammer, pointing out the flaw in the alpha’s arrogance.

“Fine,” the wolf spat, eyes gleaming with malice. “But I will prove that this… abomination doesn’t deserve to walk among us.”

Zak’s gaze didn’t waver. “As King, I choose the handicap. Dr. Bracton, if you will.”

My father stepped forward, the embodiment of cold calculation, his icy gaze locking onto mine. He unsheathed the sword in a fluid motion, the same blade he had used to behead the spy moments earlier. The glint of the weapon caught the light as he held it out for me, as though this moment had been meticulously planned. His expression was as close to approval as I’d ever seen, his eyes sparking with a dark satisfaction.

I took the sword, feeling the weight of its history, its purpose. A weapon meant for war, now resting in my hand. I turned from my father and met Star’s gaze across the room. Her face had drained of color, and she struggled against Zak and Aura’s grip, a storm of fury and fear in her eyes. But when Aura whispered something in her ear, she stilled. Then came the grin—a familiar, mischievous grin. She had a plan.

Zak raised his hand, signaling the room to fall silent. “By the customs of our people, in an uneven challenge, the weaker opponent is allowed one handicap. Cayro Bracton’s handicap is a blade, chosen by me.” Zak’s voice echoed through the room like the toll of a death bell.

The wolves bowed their heads, a begrudging respect filling the air. I lowered my gaze to Alpha Draven, my fingers tightening around the hilt of the sword.

Zak’s voice rang out again, sharp and final. “Begin.”

Alpha Draven stalked toward me, his massive frame moving with deadly intent, his eyes fixed on the sword in my hand. I mirrored his movements, sidestepping, keeping the blade between us. His lips peeled back, revealing rows of glistening teeth. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, but something primal inside me was calm, waiting. I could feel it—this was my fight. And I was ready for it.

Without warning, Draven lunged. Pure instinct kicked in. I stepped forward, ducking low, the blade slicing through the air in a clean arc. The tip caught him, drawing blood as he howled in pain. His eyes burned with fury, but there was no fear. He danced back, inspecting the wound—a shallow cut along his ribs, already staining his fur.

For a brief second, his grin returned, full of malicious intent. And then, in a blur, he charged again. This time, I wasn’t fast enough. His claws tore across my chest, sending me flying backward into a pile of chairs. The sword skittered out of my grip, clattering to the floor. Pain ripped through me, but I barely felt it. The adrenaline surged, and through the haze of battle, I could hear Star’s voice, her growls echoing through the room.

My head spun, the edges of my vision blurring as I forced myself to focus. Through the haze, I watched Alpha Blackthorn bend down, picking up the sword I had just wielded—a weapon I could barely comprehend, but one I knew carried immense power. He examined it with a sick admiration, letting out a low chuckle as if mocking the very idea that I could ever be a threat.

“The Sword of Veilmar...” His voice slithered through the air, dripping with disdain. “Now where would you get a weapon like this, Dr. Cantu?” He let the name of my father roll off his tongue like a curse. And then, with all the arrogance of a creature convinced of its superiority, he tossed the sword aside as if it were trash. It clattered against the floor, the metallic clang ringing out as it spun out of reach.

Fuck... so much for my handicap...

I dragged myself up, feeling the weight of the moment settle like lead in my bones. I squared my shoulders, locking eyes with the brute in front of me. He stood there waiting, calm, calculating, like a predator waiting for the exact moment to strike. I knew this feeling—I'd lived it. If I didn’t find a way to defeat him, I’d be dead. Simple as that.

And then, muscle memory kicked in. All the times Zak and I had sparred in our little makeshift fights flashed through my mind. Without thinking, I lunged, adrenaline surging through me, feet pushing off the ground. My movement must’ve caught him off guard, because for a brief second, I saw it in his eyes—surprise. I was fast.

Planting my right foot, I drove my left leg up in a full-force front kick, smashing it directly into Alpha Blackthorn’s throat. The impact was solid. I felt the give of his windpipe as his knees buckled, the shock and pain sending him reeling. He clasped his throat, coughing and choking, dropping down to a knee. I didn’t hesitate. Seizing the opening, I drove my fist into the side of his head with everything I had, the sickening sound of flesh and bone cracking under my knuckles as he sprawled sideways. Blood and spit splattered across the floor.

For a split second, I stood there, towering over him—but then it hit me. The memory. Like a freight train.

The man’s blood. The heart I had ripped out. The feral savagery of that night came rushing back, an unstoppable tide of guilt, fear, and nausea. My body froze. My breath hitched painfully, refusing to come. I was trapped between the here and now, and the gruesome kill I had committed. The smell of that night filled my nose again, the metallic tang of blood, the stench of death. My hands—they had done that.

I was back in that hallway.

Suddenly, I was thrown onto my back. The world spun around me. I was caught, paralyzed between the past and present. The man I had killed... no, not a man—a beast—morphed before my eyes. His face twisted, growing fangs, claws bursting from his hands. The hole in his chest was gaping, a sick waterfall of blood pouring out. And that grin. That horrifying, malicious grin. Foam and blood dripped from his mouth, his eyes glowing with pure, primal hatred. He raised his claw, ready to tear me apart.

Then something shifted. Warmth. It swept through my mind, piercing the fog of terror. A voice—the memory of my grandfather’s words—flared like a beacon: Good men sometimes have to become monsters to stop the monsters evil sends.

The feeling in my chest built into an unbearable pressure, like a dam about to burst. My hand moved instinctively, lifting toward the monster above me, palm facing up. The pressure surged down my arm, and then—like lightning—it shot from my hand.

A blast of green light erupted from me, tearing through the air with an explosion of power. It slammed into the creature, stopping its deadly swing mid-air. The light bled into its chest—no, not it—Alpha Blackthorn. My vision snapped back to reality, and I was no longer looking at a dead man from my past. This was the council room. This was happening now. Alpha Blackthorn looked down at the gaping four-inch hole where his heart should have been.

He met my eyes, confusion and shock flickering in his gaze for the briefest of moments. And then he fell, collapsing to his knees before toppling sideways, lifeless, to the floor.

I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, my mind still reeling from what had just happened. My breathing was ragged, my body aching, but I was alive. Barely.

Suddenly, Star was by my side, her hands trembling as she tore open my shirt to examine the three claw marks raked across my chest. The blood seeped slowly, the pain finally catching up with me. Zak’s face appeared above me, calm and collected, though I could see the flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Still alive, bro?” His voice was soft, almost clinical, but there was an edge to it.

“Yeah,” I huffed, forcing myself to meet his eyes.

Zak straightened, his face hardening as he turned to address the room, his voice ringing out with authority. “Cayro Jacob Bracton has won the challenge and survived. Does anyone else need a demonstration?”

The silence that followed was absolute. The weight of the moment pressed down on everyone, heavy and suffocating.

Zak bent down, helping me to my feet, steadying me as I stood. I refused to look at Blackthorn’s body. The last thing I needed was another spiral into that abyss. Swallowing hard, I let Star guide me back to my seat, sinking into it as the room shuffled with the sound of council members quietly making their exit.

Then, a low voice broke the stillness. “I told you, Alpha Blackthorn. One of these days, your hubris would catch up to you.”

I looked up to see Alpha Malachi walking calmly past Blackthorn’s corpse, his expression unreadable. He approached me and Star, settling into a chair beside us with a quiet sigh.

His eyes gleamed with a knowing look as he chuckled lowly. “You would think these fowls would listen to me when I offer advice. It seems the only two who do are Zak and Aura.”

I blinked, trying to make sense of his words, the weight of everything that had just happened settling into my bones. “Did you just refer to the council members as fowls?” I asked, my confusion slipping through.

“Ah, yes I did,” Alpha Malachi replied with a casual grin. “It’s a rather distasteful insult in our culture. Being called an ‘idiot bird’ tends to ruffle some fur.” His tone was good-humored, but the undertone made it clear that it wasn’t a term thrown around lightly.

Star let out a snort, clearly amused, as she wiped the fresh claw marks on my chest with gauze she had somehow procured out of thin air. Her touch was gentle, though I could feel the irritation humming through her bond with me—she wasn’t happy that I’d gotten hurt again, but she was holding it together. For now.

“So, who exactly are you?” I found myself asking, curiosity tugging at me. This man clearly had more influence than he let on.

“Just call me Malachi,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m Zak’s mentor, advisor, and all-around handler when it comes to werewolf politics here at the NAWC. Speaking of which, welcome to the NAWC,” he added with a sly grin.

I couldn’t help but chuckle softly, even through the pain. “Hell of a welcome, I’ll give you that.”

Malachi’s grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair. “It could’ve been worse. You should’ve seen the absolute disaster when I brought Zak and Aura here for the first time. Bloodbath doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“That bad?” Star asked, her hands pausing on my wound as she shot him an incredulous look.

“I tried to warn them,” Malachi said with a shrug, his tone soft but tinged with a hint of exasperation.

Star raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “So, who was Alpha Blackthorn exactly? He seemed... important.”

Malachi nodded slowly, his eyes drifting towards the now vacant seat at the table. “He was the head council member, as well as a thorn in Lady Lycotonu’s side.”

“Oh...” I muttered, still feeling a little sheepish about the whole thing.

“So... does that make Cayro the new head council member?” Star asked, her usual no-nonsense approach cutting straight to the point. She pushed herself onto my lap, much to my surprise, but I didn’t complain. If anything, I felt more grounded with her close.

Malachi let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “In most cases, yes. But with the two of you having Lycotonu heritage, it would be a conflict of interest for Zak and the council. The next in line for the position is Alpha Acosta.”

At the mention of that name, I instinctively glanced at Star. Her face twisted into a sour expression, and I knew something was up. “What’s wrong?” I asked cautiously.

“Oh, I can answer that,” Malachi said, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Acosta is your Beta’s father. And if I had to pick between him and Blackthorn? I’d take Blackthorn every single time. Acosta is a cold, ruthless bastard. You should ask Lyra about him sometime...”

I didn’t even have time to process that bombshell before Zak and Aura strolled back into the room, looking like they hadn’t just witnessed a bloody duel. Zak gave me a nod of approval, as if I’d just passed some unspoken test, and sat down next to us, his posture relaxed, though his eyes remained sharp.

“Well, that could’ve gone… better,” Zak muttered.

“Eeeh,” Malachi replied, leaning back, clearly enjoying the aftermath. “Could’ve gone worse too. I’ve come to appreciate the chaos you and Aura bring. You two have shaken up the eroded foundation that your father built centuries ago. It’s about time for a little change.”

Zak let out a long, exasperated huff, clearly tired of hearing the same thing from Malachi, but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention back to me and Star. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up at the clinic. Your grandparents and Beta are waiting for you back at the Manor.”

Star and I both nodded, grateful for the chance to get out of the council room. As we left, we exchanged a polite farewell with Alpha Malachi, who, despite everything, seemed far too pleased with himself. His smile lingered as we made our way out of the building and back towards Zak’s truck.

The weight of everything that had just happened clung to me, but as Star’s hand found mine and our bond hummed softly in the back of my mind, I felt steady again. The day wasn’t over yet, and something told me that the real challenge had just begun.