MATED TO THE SECRET ALPHA
Chapter 210: Before You Come

Chapter 210: Before You Come

Beta Theon’s shoulders, though squared with defiance, couldn’t fully mask the tension coiling beneath his skin. He was outnumbered, outranked—and worst of all, he had dared to summon this meeting.

He glanced at the two conspicuously empty thrones sitting next to each other at the far end of the circle—Luna Reana’s throne, carved from obsidian and etched with the Black Moon sigil – a blackened moon eclipsed by a clawed paw, three jagged scars slashing through its center.

Beside it sat Alpha Snow’s throne, forged from red iron and bone, with a red wolf sigil.

The last empty throne, sitting in between two Alphas, belonged to Alpha Killian of the West Wood Pack, but since he was no longer an Alpha, his seat was vacant until the next Alpha was picked. Today.

However, no one cared about Beta Theon and Malric right now. All eyes were focused on Luna Reana’s throne.

"She dares insult this council?" growled Alpha Hargan, his deep voice echoing. "First, she refused to step down—and now she doesn’t even show up?"

"She plays Alpha," Alpha Ronan scoffed. "But forgets what she truly is. A Luna. A woman. That seat she’s occupying should have been filled the day she was crowned."

"And yet it stays empty," muttered Alpha Varun. "Like her womb, no doubt."

The table erupted in cruel laughter.

"She rejected five worthy Alphas," spat Alpha Dren of the Stone Claw Pack. "Even Killian, who would’ve given her a proper pack bond. And now—what? She rendered him useless, publicly humiliates him, then tries to hand his title to a half blue-blood Beta?"

"That’s treason," Hargan snarled. "She wants to absorb West Wood Pack into her banner. Make the Black Moon Pack the center of our politics. All under a female Alpha?" He slammed his fist on the table. "Unnatural. Unacceptable!"

"She refuses to bear pups, refuses to bow, refuses to serve her pack like a proper Luna. Instead, she hoards power like a tyrant." Said another.

"She’s a danger," said Ronan coldly. "What she’s doing to the Black Moon Pack is poison. No structure. No tradition. No man to keep her in check."

"Not just poison," Dren added. "Contagion. The other women in her pack are growing bold. Soon our females will want power too."

There was a low chorus of grunted agreement and bitter muttering.

"She must step down."

"Or be mated off by force."

"We should strip her of her position. Choose a real Alpha to lead her pack."

"A real male Alpha," Hargan said, smirking. "She can stay as Luna and do what she was made to do—birth pups, train the she-wolves, and stop pretending she belongs at this table."

They laughed until someone suddenly chimed in.

"She’s in heat."

The words broke the stillness like a whip-crack.

A few chuckles rumbled around the council chamber as the Alphas shifted in their high-backed chairs.

"She walked past me and I nearly lost my damn mind," Alpha Drago smirked, fangs flashing. "You smelled that, didn’t you? Sweet, ripe heat. The kind that makes you want to rip through stone walls."

"She’s baiting us," Alpha Varun growled. "She wants one of us to mount her, claim her. Arrogant bitch."

"I say we give her what she’s asking for." Alpha Harrex leaned forward, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. "Drag her down, muzzle her, and remind her what a Luna’s made for."

"She might be a mouthy thorn, but she’s a beauty," someone else added, voice low and lecherous. "Worth a fuck. Or five."

"Have you seen her ass? Damn! That bitch got a perfect round ass. Can’t wait to slap that butt cheek the way her father should have spanked some senses into her."

"Heard she’s giving it all to a servant. Makes me want to raid that pack." The speaker hissed.

Laughter rose—coarse, cruel.

Beta Theon’s face flushed, ashamed at how disgusting these men were. But Malric on the other hand, was smirking, even imagining Reana under her.

"Can you imagine," snorted Dren, "that bitch under you, all that pride stripped away, screaming your name while she forgets her goddamn fortress?"

"Should’ve known her heat would betray her before her heart did."

Then, in the middle of the crude chorus, came the soft clink of porcelain.

All eyes turned toward the far end of the table.

Alpha Julius of the Blue Ridge Pack sat quietly, steam curling from the teacup in his hand, lips parted just enough to blow gently across the surface.

He hadn’t said a word the entire meeting.

Now, he took a sip, then murmured –calm, bored, deadly–

"All the best."

Silence fell like an axe.

Someone cleared his throat. Then Dren leaned in, narrowing his eyes. "I heard a whisper. That you... Julius, you gave her resources. Money. Steel. Labor."

No response.

"How could you waste such fortune on her insignificant fortress? Did you lose your head in her cunt?"

Alpha Julius blinked slowly. He set his cup down with a delicate tap, still not speaking.

Dren grinned wider. "Tell us, brother. How does she taste? Is it salty? fishy?... Is she hairy? Clean? Fresh?"

Julius met his eyes, flat and unbothered. "More than your Luna and your whores will ever taste."

A few gasps echoed, then a chair scraped. Alpha Dren growled low. "You arrogant—"

But Julius wasn’t done.

He clicked his tongue once, and with a shake of his head, added;

"Unfortunately, your little, twitching excuse of a cock wouldn’t make it past her scent, let alone her thighs. Before you come."

The table went still.

That was a huge blow to Alpha Dren and it landed where it hurt him the most.

No one dared laugh.

Dren’s fists clenched on the table. His breathing grew sharp. His eyes saw red.

But Julius only lifted his tea again, eyes cool, voice a whisper above the rim;

"Careful, Alpha. You might get a heart attack." He sipped his tea, then finished with an advice. "Learn to use your fingers and tongue. Your new Luna would thank you."

A long, deafening silence settled in the hall. No one dared to breath too loudly.

The others exchanged glances.

Then, like an bomb, Alpha Dren exploded.