Chapter 240: Reject Me To My Face
Face calm. Breathing steady. Internally on fire.
Waiting was the only play left. It wasn’t over until it was over. How long they all had to sit there staring at a dark map like idiots was anyone’s guess.
Darwin slow-clapped. Once. Twice.
"There we have it," he announced, gesturing at the dark map like a teacher presenting a failed experiment. "Shame. I was almost rooting for her. Should someone escort her out or is she going to sit there until the map feels sorry for her?"
Then.
Lunaris ignited.
Pure white with gold at the edges to outline it. Brighter than anyone’s on the map.
It detonated from the Lunaris territory like a sunrise compressed into a single second, flooding the carved borders with a radiance so bright that every face at the table was washed in it.
Guinevere blinked at it for a second, not believing it herself.
Thank fuck.
Darwin Blackmoor’s snigger died so hard it left a body. The man had been mid-gloat. Across the table, Benjamin looked like he was having the best goddamn night of his life.
Lunaris kept getting brighter until it was almost too bright to look at.
Silence.
Every face in the room, including Shadowfell’s, went completely blank-stunned at the map. Even the ones who’d put money on her. To be fair, Guinevere was using every available muscle to not look equally stunned.
WHOOSH.
Stonehowl’s territory flared white with gold outlining the border, matching Lunaris.
Guinevere’s eyes widened. She’d been aiming for any reaction from the map, not a full takeover of Stonehowl. When she looked at the table, the collective expression had already jumped from stunned to complete what-the-fuck.
A Beta in the crowd laughed and clapped his hands once, entertained as hell.
Another territory flared white, matching Lunaris with a gold outline. That Alpha hadn’t even gone yet. He stared at her across the table like she’d just declared war, murdered his firstborn, and bitch-slapped his dick for good measure.
The next territories caught in rapid fire.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
A chain reaction of territories ignited white with gold borders. Packs that had already been glowing were consumed and changed into hers.
Alphas shoved back from the table hard enough to scrape chairs across stone. One man launched to his feet so fast his ceremonial dagger hit the floor and he didn’t even fucking notice.
It kept spreading. Relentless. Indiscriminate. Every territory it touched surrendered its color without resistance, as if the map itself had decided the borders were irrelevant and the only thing that mattered was the source.
Both Blackmoor territories lit at the exact same second. Both twins said "Goddamnit" in perfect unison. Neither of them noticed the other had spoken, which was the most revealing part of the whole fucking display.
The entire continent of Nyros was blazing white and gold. Every carved border. Every mountain range. Every coastline. A single unbroken ocean of light from the blood of a non-Alpha, second born, woman who stole the token she used and absolutely did not have the real Alpha’s blessing to be here.
Every territory except one.
Shadowfell.
Nicholas’s territory sat in its original color, the lone holdout on a map that had surrendered everything else. The contrast was stark, a single island of resistance.
Every eye in the chamber was locked on it.
Nicholas was staring at the map. His jaw was set. His hands were flat on the table. His expression had left the building and what remained was something raw and unfiltered that every man in the room could see and none of them had ever witnessed on that face before.
The man whose territory had been the biggest and brightest for almost ten minutes was watching his continental dick-measuring trophy get swallowed in real time.
Then Shadowfell’s territory lit pure, radiant white and a gold outline snapped into place around the territory.
The last holdout folded. Border to border. Coast to coast. Every inch of the continent glowing a single unified color that belonged to no pack and every pack.
The silence in the chamber was not the silence of men processing information.
It was the silence of men whose entire understanding of the world had just been rewritten in front of them and they didn’t have the vocabulary for what they’d witnessed.
Darwin Blackmoor was staring at the map with his mouth open. Benjamin was staring at Darwin with the most satisfied expression a human face had ever produced.
Alpha Veilcross, who had been mentally composing her ejection speech, looked like a man who had swallowed his own tongue and was too stunned to choke on it.
Nicholas looked up from the map and straight at Guinevere. She looked right back.
Her face said exactly what she was thinking. Whoops. My bad on that.
She reset her face, but the damage was already done.
The silence lasted four seconds. A new high score for a room packed with Alphas who couldn’t stay quiet if you paid them.
Then the chamber blew apart.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT," Alpha Veilcross boomed. "That dagger was tampered with. She goes again. RIGHT NOW."
"She was handed that blade by her own man," Darwin Blackmoor added, standing. "For all we know, it was coated. Enchanted. Lunaris is known for tricks. Renwick is known for tricks. She goes again or every Alpha in this room should walk."
"Sit DOWN, Darwin." Benjamin Blackmoor didn’t stand. "You lost the bet. Accept it."
"I lost NOTHING. That wasn’t legitimate. The map has never done that. In the entire history of this ritual, the map has NEVER done that. She cheated."
"Cheated," Redmoon repeated, his diplomatic patience audibly fraying. "She pricked her finger in front of all of us with a borrowed blade and placed a token in a slot. What exactly did she cheat with, Darwin? Elaborate. I’ll wait."
"THE DAGGER. The dagger was—"
"Was what? Magical? You just watched a map made of magic reject your accusation of magic. Pick a lane."
Alpha Ironmaw slammed both fists on the table. "She goes again. Period. Different blade. No arguments. If it happens twice, we accept it. If it doesn’t, she leaves."