BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 102: SHIFT IN THE AIR AT THE COVEN COUNCIL

Chapter 102: SHIFT IN THE AIR AT THE COVEN COUNCIL

{"Change your thoughts and you change your world."}

Lord Marcel’s lips parted slightly, his eyes wide with disbelief. Idris and Tio looked as if they had swallowed their tongues, their mouths agape, their expressions frozen somewhere between horror and shock. Desmond and Byron stood rigid, their eyes darting between Cassius’s lifeless body and the pool of blood spreading beneath it, as if trying to comprehend what had just occurred.

Their stunned expressions were almost comical.

I nearly chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Had they believed I would allow Cassius to keep breathing after his silence betrayed him? After he refused to answer for the vampire bugs? The coven laws were absolute, harboring a wolf was punishable by death. The fact that it was that wolf, the one who killed my father, only made my decision easier.

But as I shifted my gaze beyond them, I saw a different kind of reaction.

Amon, Aggrey, Dante, Aurora, and Nessa watched with measured calm, their faces unreadable but their eyes filled with something I recognized. Understanding.

They knew. They understood what had to be done. Aurora tilted her head slightly, her expression serene, almost approving. Nessa folded her arms across her chest, exhaling through her nose as if she had expected nothing less from me. Amon and Aggrey exchanged glances before turning their attention back to me, nodding subtly. Dante simply smirked.

They were not appalled. They were not horrified. They knew justice when they saw it.

I let the silence stretch for a moment longer, letting the weight of my actions settle in the air. Then, I turned to Lord Marcel, whose fingers were still curled into fists, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack.

"Well?" I asked, my voice steady, unwavering. "Shall we move forward? Or does anyone else wish to waste my time with pleas for mercy?"

Lord Marcel’s eyes blazed with fury as he fixed his glare on me. His jaw clenched so tightly that his words came through gritted teeth, slow and deliberate.

"You took matters into your own hands, Freyr. That is not the way of the Coven Council."

I stood firm, my rage still simmering beneath my skin. My claws were still stained with Cassius’s blood, and my heartbeat pounded like war drums in my ears. My father’s death, the betrayal of our kind, the lies—all of it—boiled inside me like an unstoppable force. I exhaled sharply, my eyes narrowing at Marcel as I responded coldly.

"And I will gladly take more matters into my hands if it means ridding this coven of anyone else who had a hand in my father’s death." My voice dropped lower, deadly. "At least then, my mother will finally know peace."

A flicker of something crossed Marcel’s face, realization, warning, but it did not stop him from stepping forward, raising a rigid finger toward me. His presence, laced with authority, filled the chamber, his next words slicing through the tension like a blade.

"Do you still respect me as the Lord of this Coven, Freyr?" he hissed, his fangs glinting ever so slightly.

I let the silence stretch. Let him watch me. Let them all watch me.

Then I snickered, shaking my head. "If you weren’t the Lord of the Coven, Marcel, I would have taken further action tonight." My voice was calm, controlled but the storm beneath it was unmistakable.

A sharp intake of breath came from my left. Idris took a bold step forward, his expression darkening with suspicion. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded, his fists trembling at his sides.

The air in the Coven Council Hall was thick with tension, the kind that pressed against the skin and made even the strongest among us shift uneasily. I stood tall, my fury barely contained, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

"How did the Blood Stone Vampire Bugs even have a nest in Blood Stone Mountain?" I demanded, my gaze sweeping across the room. "Who was breeding them? Why were they being used on young vampires? Who was behind it? And more importantly"—I turned my eyes to Lord Marcel—"why was it overlooked by the royal guards?"

The silence that followed was deafening. No one moved. No one spoke. Then, slowly, every eye in the room shifted toward Marcel, waiting, watching. I could see it, the flicker of something in his gaze, the slight tightening of his jaw. He knew. He knew he was backed into a corner. Trapped.

And whatever he said next would determine whether he still held power over this coven.

Then, just as I expected, he turned to Desmond Marcel, his voice low but firm.

"Desmond," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "Were these the findings when you and Freyr visited Blood Stone Mountain?"

Desmond’s face twisted in shock. He had not expected Marcel to push the question onto him. I could see the way his mind raced, weighing his options. If he admitted to what we had found, he would be aligning himself with me. If he denied it, I would tear through his lies in a heartbeat.

And Marcel knew that. That was why he had shifted the weight of the question. Clever. But not clever enough.

Desmond Marcel did not hesitate. His voice was steady, and his words were precise as he recounted everything that had unfolded since we first set foot on Blood Stone Mountain. He spoke of the nest, describing how we had stumbled upon the writhing mass of Blood Stone Vampire Bugs, their pulsating forms hidden deep within the mountain’s veins. He detailed the vampire slaves, pale, hollow-eyed, and barely clinging to life as their bodies served as breeding grounds for those cursed insects. Then came the wolf, the creature that had lurked in the shadows, its presence a secret too dangerous to ignore. I crossed my arms, watching Desmond with an amused smirk. I knew exactly what was happening here. Desmond had seen through Lord Marcel’s ploy. Marcel wanted him to take the blame, to fumble his words, to make himself appear complicit. But Desmond did the opposite; his narration was clear and deliberate. He had been with us as we moved through the mountains, completely unaware of the horrors hidden there.

And Lord Marcel hated that.

I caught the flicker of fire in his eyes as he stared Desmond down, but Desmond did not waver. His face remained impassive; his expression unreadable as he finished his report.

Then Aggrey stood. His chair scraped against the stone floor, his presence commanding as he addressed the council. "How could we do this to our people?" His voice was thick with disbelief. "Blood Stone Mountain is sacred! It is where we harness the blood that feeds the coven, where our lifeblood flows. And yet" he gestured sharply, "we harbored an evil creature, a monster, a killer."

He turned his gaze toward me, and for the first time that night, his expression softened.

"I, for one, am glad that Freyr put an end to it. If that beast had been allowed to live, Paradise Coven would have been in grave danger."

I turned my gaze to Aggrey, my expression firm. "You’re right," I said, my voice steady, unwavering. "This was a disgrace. A violation of everything the coven stands for. But merely being glad that I killed the creature is not enough. This should have never happened in the first place."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the council hall. I let the silence settle for a moment before turning my attention to Elder Dante. His silver eyes regarded me carefully, as if he already knew what I was about to say.

"We need order," I stated. "We need control over the royal guards. It is unacceptable that such evil thrived in Blood Stone Mountain under their watch. Someone must take responsibility."

Dante gave a slow nod, waiting for me to continue.

"Until we appoint someone to replace Cassius, you should take charge of the army," I declared. "We cannot allow further negligence to stain this coven."

A hum of approval swept through the hall. I did not miss the way Lord Marcel’s face twisted with barely restrained fury. His hands clenched at his sides, but he remained silent. He knew the tide was shifting, and for the first time, he was not the one controlling it.

Elder Dante exhaled deeply before speaking. "I accept," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his authority. "But that alone won’t be enough."

He straightened; his gaze sharp as it moved across the council. "There needs to be a complete cleanup," he announced. "No half-measures. We uproot every part of this corruption."

Another murmur of agreement spread through the hall.

Dante’s tone darkened. "That means Tio and Idris should also step down until the matter of the vampire bugs is fully investigated."

Idris stiffened. Tio’s eyes widened in disbelief. I could see the anger flaring in them, but neither of them spoke. They knew arguing now would only make them look guiltier.

Dante continued, unbothered. "Nessa and Aurora will take their place on the council."

Silence followed his words, but it was not one of resistance—it was acceptance. The weight of the decision settled over the hall like an unspoken verdict. Lord Marcel’s fury was palpable, but I only smirked, and I watched him slide down on his chair and he never uttered a word to refute or object to our plans.

Lord Marcel’s jaw was tight, his eyes burning with barely contained rage as he finally spoke.

"I will abide by the council’s rules," he said through gritted teeth, his voice sharp, clipped.

The room remained still, everyone watching him, waiting for more. But there was nothing else. No argument. No further resistance. Just those words—a forced surrender.

Without another glance at anyone, he pushed back his chair and stood. The weight of his authority still clung to him, but it was thinner now, like a shadow at dusk.

"Council dismissed," he announced coldly before turning on his heel.

Idris and Tio exchanged tense look before silently following him, their expressions unreadable, though I could feel the bitterness radiating off them. They knew this was not over. I knew it was not over.

As the heavy doors closed behind them, a lingering tension filled the hall. The balance of power had shifted, and everyone could feel it. I took one last glance at the empty seat where Lord Marcel once sat and smirked.

He had messed with the wrong family.