Chapter 20: Liberation

RONAN

The room was thick with the scent of age-old leather and smoke, as if the elders had never left the place since the last century. Their watchful eyes bore into me, the air laced with expectations and silent critiques. 

Wolves didn't need spoken words to exert their authority, but these elders couldn't resist reminding me of their own — especially now, when I have a human as Luna.

At the head of the table, I met their stares head-on, my presence a challenge as much as an answer. 

My mother and former regent sat to my left, her calm expression giving away nothing but that maddening composure she wielded like a weapon. On my right, Cilian, my Beta, radiated silent loyalty, though even he felt the tension, his usual smirk replaced by an intense focus.

"Alpha," began Elder Hawke, his gravelly tone slicing through the silence, weighted with the implication of each word. "Your Luna… Maeve… She was not your first choice, nor ours. She was, as we all know, a substitute."

The air around us thickened, tension weaving through each word. I leaned forward, meeting his gaze without blinking, unyielding. "That may be so, Elder Hawke. But since taking on her role, Maeve has done more than most who were born into this pack. She's earned her place," I said, my voice a steady command. "The pack has accepted her, human or not. That should be enough."

Hawke's lips twisted into a bitter, knowing smile, and that's when Elder Wilde decided to chime in. "Accepted her, yes, perhaps. But tolerated isn't the same as trusted, Alpha. Especially when this… acceptance… goes against centuries of tradition. You must understand, the pack elders are protective of the legacy you inherited."

A scoff slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and I leaned back, feigning ease.

 Ah, tradition. 

The great iron mantle that I was supposed to wear proudly. Tradition, which dictated I should marry another supernatural, likely someone with an ancient bloodline and an ego to match. 

Maybe one of those elite witches who managed to look down on werewolves while still taking their vows to one. The old path that led nowhere but kept the elders' pulse steady.

"Protective of legacies or fearful of change, Elder?" I asked, not bothering to keep the edge out of my voice. "Maeve's Luna status bridges more than any of you have cared to acknowledge. Humans and even Witches — they respect her, and that respect strengthens us. Not everyone in our world is so rigid in their ways."

The silence stretched, taut, until Jean's fingers tapped softly on the table. It was a practiced rhythm, a controlled beat that pulled every gaze back to her. She had the room's attention before she even opened her mouth. "Ronan," she began, her voice low, a faint thread of softness woven into her authority. "The pack elders don't oppose Maeve personally. She has… performed admirably, given the circumstances."

Ah, praise, delivered like a reluctant medicine, faint as a whisper. Jean's eyes bore into mine, sharp, assessing, like she was confirming Maeve's worth against some invisible ledger of tradition. "But a human Luna, chosen from convenience? It's hard to ignore the concerns that her presence erodes the very foundation of who we are."

My jaw tightened, but I kept my tone even. "Funny," I said, letting the edge in my voice sharpen just a bit, "coming from the very person who once encouraged me to bridge worlds and welcome allies, supernatural and human alike. What changed, Mother? You, who argued for coexistence, and pushed for this marriage as a matter of fact, now question the very foundation of it?"

Jean's calm expression faltered for a split second, her fingers pausing mid-tap. She recovered quickly, though, as elder Thorne said. "Times changed, Alpha. Declan's ambitions, Isabelle's disappearance… These things have stirred unrest. Perhaps what seemed practical years ago no longer serves us in the same way. And with Maeve being… well, a substitute," he said choosing his words with care, but it landed like a stone in the silence, "we need to see that your leadership isn't bending to appeasements. We all need assurance that you have the strength to guide us through these changes."

I held his gaze, refusing to let his words unsettle me. It was clear they were no longer just questioning Maeve. They were – all of them, even my mother – testing me, probing for signs of weakness. 

I felt Cilian's silent support at my right, his loyalty an anchor as I faced them.

"Let's be clear," I said, my voice low and unwavering, each word a deliberate, steady beat. "Maeve's place, as Luna, is not up for negotiation. She has faced everything thrown at her by this pack, by you," I let my gaze linger on each and every one of them, making my message crystal clear, "and has stood by my side without faltering. She is here to stay. As for Declan and Isabelle?" I continued, a sharp edge creeping into my tone, "Their alliances and their mysteries will not decide the future of this pack. I will handle them. This pack answers to me — not to their hidden politics."

Jean's fingers resumed their slow, rhythmic tapping on the table, each beat feeling like a subtle countdown. 

She tilted her head, her gaze sharpening as she leaned forward. "We don't dispute Luna's loyalty, Alpha," Elder Hawke replied, his voice smooth, measured. "Only the impact of her position. Traditions, after all, aren't merely formality. They're the roots from which we grow. And leadership — true leadership — requires balance."

He let the word "balance" sit heavily between us, the implication clear. "Perhaps… compromise," mother added, her tone light, but the underlying demand unmistakable. It wasn't Maeve's abilities that bothered them — it was the shake-up in the old order, the steady erosion of a hierarchy they'd always controlled.

"Compromise?" I repeated, the word hanging in the air like a threat, though my tone remained calm. "I believe I've compromised enough already. Maeve's position was never her decision or mine, but she has more than proven herself. Her performance is bridging divides you've spent decades ignoring. And I have yet to see any other alliances — or traditions — that offers us that same strength."

A flicker of something, amusement maybe, passed through Jean's eyes, a silent calculation. She knew as well as I did that Declan's alliances were a problem, that Isabelle's absence was more than a coincidence. But this was about control, plain and simple, a power grab masked in polite advice.

"Your points are valid, Ronan," elder Thorne said, his tone softening, almost sympathetic. "But keep in mind that Maeve's influence, as you call it, may extend too far — further than we can predict, further than even you can control."

"She already has the press wrapped around her finger," my mother added with a faint smile, the words woven with both admiration and warning. "And if Declan's new allies find a way to exploit that…" She let the sentence hang, the insinuation as sharp as claws.

I kept my face impassive, not giving her the satisfaction of a reaction. "Declan can ally with whoever he pleases," I said. "If he wishes to test my control over this pack, he's welcome to try."

A murmur of approval passed among the elders, but Jean's gaze remained fixed, unyielding. "Strength alone won't be enough to hold this pack together, Ronan. Legacy — traditions — is what ties us. Every alliance, every title, every bond to this pack comes with a cost."

"And I've paid that cost in full," I replied, my tone cold. "I respect the foundation of this pack, but not if it's used to undermine me."

For a moment, everyone was silent, my mother's gaze slipping from mine to the other elders, each nodding in a silent agreement, forming a front that I could sense wasn't going to shift easily.

"Then we hope, Ronan," Jean said at last, her voice soft but with an undeniable edge, "that your continued leadership will be grounded in that respect. And that the balance between new paths and old traditions will not be… forgotten."

"I've never shunned tradition, mother, nor have I abandoned what grounds us," I replied, my tone hard as steel. "But I refuse to be bound by it. This pack does not need another puppet show — my loyalty is to its future, not to shadows of the past."

The room fell silent, my words landing like stones. Mother's gaze lingered, a quiet challenge simmering within, as the elders exchanged glances, the weight of my resolve felt across the room.

Finally, she leaned back, lips curling into a faint, inscrutable smile. "Then we trust, Ronan," she said, her voice smooth as silk, "that your leadership will continue to reflect that strength. For our foundation's sake." The unspoken weight of her words clear; play their game or risk further pushback.

I rose, the scrape of my chair on the polished floor cutting through the silence, a clean, jagged break from the tension that had been thickening the air. "Consider your concerns noted," I said, each word as cold and final as a slammed door. "As for Maeve's position, or my leadership? Those are not yours to negotiate. With that, I call this meeting over."

I turned sharply, striding toward the door with Cilian close at my side, his presence a wall of unwavering support, silent but powerful. Behind us, whispers ignited like sparks on dry wood—wary, uncertain murmurs that would only grow as the weight of my words sank in. They could mutter and plot in the shadows all they liked; I had drawn my line, and they would feel the shift as deeply as I did.

Just as my hand touched the door, I paused, a deliberate, simmering halt that demanded attention. Slowly, I turned back, fixing my gaze on her — Mother — who still sat there, chin lifted in defiance or denial, it was hard to tell.

"Oh, one more thing," I said, voice laced with a calm, edged authority. "Next time we're in this room, or any other public situation, you'll refer to me as Alpha. Otherwise, don't bother showing up." A faint smile tugged at my lips, sharp as the final twist of a knife. "Or better yet — I'll have Cilian escort you out."

And with that, I was gone, leaving nothing but the cold echo of my words and the subtle, undeniable weight of a new order.

***

By the time I reached Maeve's room, I was a storm contained, each step pounding out the anger that simmered beneath the surface. The meeting replayed in my mind on an endless loop, each dismissive look, each condescending word, until my head felt like it would split open.

I didn't bother knocking. I twisted the handle and walked in, the door swinging open to reveal Maeve sprawled on her bed, her shoulders shaking, her face buried in a pillow. 

The sight stopped me in my tracks, the anger morphing into something else, something I didn't have the name for.

She looked up, her eyes red, still brimming with the frustration I knew all too well. Her glare could've peeled paint off a wall. "Ever heard of knocking?"

I held her stare, unphased. "It's my house," I replied, a shrug rolling off my shoulders. "Knocking seems a little redundant."

She rolled her eyes, letting her head drop back onto the pillow. "Of course. Why would the mighty Alpha knock? I'd hate for you to exert yourself on behalf of the lowly human you dragged here."

The sarcasm was there, but it was missing its usual bite. What surprised me is that I missed it. She sounded drained, exhausted in a way I hadn't seen before. For the first time, it hit me just how much this place was suffocating us both.

"Are you alright?" I asked, though the answer was obvious.

Her laugh was hollow, bitter. "I'm peachy. Nothing like being a stranger in a cage full of wolves to brighten a girl's day." She paused, then muttered, "I don't think I can do this much longer, Ronan. I mean… this world. You. The wolves… everything."

The words hit like a punch to the gut, a dull ache settling in my chest. I'd expected her bluntness — Maeve never held back — but this time, there was something else beneath it. A vulnerability, a quiet plea that felt too familiar.

"I know how you feel," I said, the words thick in my throat. "This place is… wrong. My mother wants me to lead like my father, the elders want me to act like them, and I—" I broke off, shaking my head. "I need out. We need out."

She turned her head, her skeptical gaze softening. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're leaving. You and me." I held her gaze, unblinking. "I'm taking us somewhere else. Somewhere we don't have to put on a show every second of the day, where every damn thing I say isn't weighed against my father's legacy or my mother's expectations."

Maeve blinked, caught off guard. Her expression wavered between surprise and something that looked suspiciously like hope. 

"You're serious," she whispered, her guard dropping enough for me to see the edge of uncertainty beneath.

"Dead serious," I replied, my voice as unyielding as the conviction that had brought me here. "This place is a cage for both of us. I can't keep jumping through hoops for people who don't respect me. I need to be somewhere I can actually breathe, somewhere we can both start over without my mother's constant meddling or the pack's expectations hanging over us."

She stared at me, the weight of what I'd just said sinking into her expression. Maeve looked skeptical, yes, but there was also a glimmer of something softer there — a spark of hope I hadn't seen in her since all this had started. 

She shifted, tucking her legs up under her as she straightened, pulling herself up like she was trying to brace for whatever came next.

"Somewhere to breathe," she repeated, like she was testing the sound of it, wondering if she could believe it.

Her eyes flickered with understanding as she processed this, weighing my words with that careful, guarded look I'd come to recognize. 

Yet, there was something more — a hint of hope, like she wanted to believe this wasn't another empty promise. I leaned forward, driven by a rare urgency to make her see that this wasn't just a way out; it was the start of something neither of us had been allowed before.

She lifted her gaze back to me, biting her lip as if considering something dangerous, even reckless. "And you think the elders are just going to let you walk away?"

I shrugged, letting a small, humorless smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. "They don't have to 'let' me do anything, Maeve. They can protest, murmur, and whisper among themselves, but they can't stop me. Especially not if I don't give them the chance." I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a low, private tone meant only for her. "And if you're feeling like a prisoner here, then I'm doing something wrong. I don't want you to feel like a stranger in my world. That's not how this is supposed to work."

Her expression softened, her guard slipping just enough for me to catch a glimpse of the real hesitation — and maybe even a touch of fear — in her eyes.

"What happens when some new crisis pops up, Ronan?" she asked, a note of doubt slipping into her voice. "Something else that drags you back, or worse… keeps you from being there. And what about the other factions? What will they think if we're living somewhere else, apart from the pack?"

Her concern was real, and I didn't blame her for it. "Maeve," I began, choosing my words carefully, "living in the city isn't about distancing ourselves. It's about being realistic. I've spent most of my life there. The compound… it isn't exactly where wolves live these days. If anything, it's isolating us and making people talk. If we're based in the city, we'll seem more reliable to the outside world — and," I added, leaning back a little, "we'll finally be able to breathe."

She looked at me, still guarded, and I could see the hesitation warring with her own cautious hope. "You say that now, Ronan, but what happens when you start missing all of this?" She gestured around, her hand sweeping over the room, though I knew she mean. "Your people. The respect they give you. The… Alpha life."

I shook my head, feeling the weight of the truth settle over me. "I'm not leaving my pack, Maeve. I'm leaving their expectations. I'll still be the Alpha, still be the leader they need. But I don't have to live under this roof, under my mother's thumb, just to do it. They need to learn that, and so do I."

We let the silence stretch, heavy and uncertain, but somehow not uncomfortable. It felt like the air had finally cleared between us, the storm easing just enough to let us breathe. I watched her, my heart pounding in a way I hadn't felt in years, waiting for her response. She held my gaze, the tension in her expression softening, and I had the sense that something important was happening, right here, right now.

"And me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Where do I fit into all of this?"

"You're…" I hesitated, the weight of my own words crashing over me, surprising me with their intensity. "You're with me," I said, my voice dropping as the words sank in. "If you want to be, that is. None of this was what you signed up for either. But I know you, Maeve. You're strong — stronger than most wolves I know. But even you shouldn't have to face this alone."

She let out a shaky breath, and for a moment, I thought I saw the faint glisten of tears in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.

Maeve let out a shaky breath, her face softening, and then something changed. She met my gaze with a flash of determination, lips curling in a small, rebellious smile.

"All right," she said, her voice clear and resolute. "Let's do it. The rest of the wolves can go screw themselves. When are we leaving?"