Chapter 2

The next morning, Celeste was waiting outside the strategy room.

Only the Alpha, the Luna, and members of Blackthorne's inner council

attended those meetings. Even spouses of council members were kept

outside.

Celeste leaned against the stone wall with a leather folder in her

hands.

"I asked Ronan if I could sit in," she said.

"No."

Her brows lifted. "You didn't even ask why."

"You don't need to be inside."

"I spent years outside Blackthorne territory. I know how other packs

talk about Ronan. That could help him before the leadership selection."

"That can be given to him separately."

Her expression softened into something that looked almost reasonable.

"I'm trying to help."

"No," I said. "You're asking for access."

The door opened behind me.

Ronan had heard enough to understand what we were arguing about.

"Celeste, give me the folder," he said. "Elara, inside."

She handed it over without protest.

That should have been the end of it.

It wasn't.

After the meeting, I found Ronan in his office and closed the door.

"I need you to hear me clearly."

He set down his pen.

"I'm listening."

"You can help her settle back into the pack. Give her rooms. Give her

protection. Repay whatever debt you believe you owe her."

His jaw tightened slightly at the word debt.

"But she does not get my place beside you," I continued. "She does not

enter Alpha-Luna meetings. And she does not get wife privileges because

she saved your life eight years ago."

Ronan stood.

"Celeste isn't trying to replace you."

"That isn't what I said."

He exhaled through his nose. "Fine. I understand the boundary."

"Do you?"

His eyes met mine.

"Yes."

For one brief moment, I believed that mattered.

That afternoon, a second strategy session was called to review Ronan's

position with the visiting packs.

When I entered, Celeste was seated at the far end of the table.

Not in my chair this time.

Inside the room anyway.

I stopped.

Ronan looked up first.

"Elara."

Celeste opened the same leather folder from that morning.

"She remembered something important," Ronan said. "One of the packs

opposing my appointment has been spreading doubts about Blackthorne. She

heard it while she was away."

"She could have told you privately."

"She said the context matters."

Of course she had.

Celeste looked at me with careful innocence. "If you want me to leave, I

will."

Ronan's expression hardened—not at her.

At me.

"This affects the selection. We don't have time to turn useful

information into a marital argument."

The words landed harder because he had heard me only hours earlier.

He knew exactly what this room meant.

He knew exactly what I had asked.

And he had still opened the door.

I took my seat without another word.

Across the table, Celeste lowered her eyes to her papers.

The corner of her mouth moved.

Barely.

But enough.

Ronan had not misunderstood my boundary.

He had decided it was less important than her request.