Page 35 of Enemies By Fate

“Warrick,” I sigh, but the prisoner nods vehemently in agreement.

“Oh, no, Alpha! I won’t! I promise!”

Warrick nods at the guards. “Stay close to her. If anything happens to the Luna or my children…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. The threat is clear.

The door closes, and I’m left with Tavric, who eagerly reaches for his sandwiches, determined to munch them down.

“Have you given anymore thought to what we discussed last time, Tavric?” I ask hopefully. “If you give me the names of some more of the rebels, I could get you moved to a better location.”

“Oh, maybe…” he hems, and I stifle a sigh. The conversation always goes the same way.

“Tavric, my father isn’t coming back to rule. None of the ancient packs are. That way of life is over—it’s been over for centuries.” My voice softens, the weight of the past pressing against me. “My father didn’t survive to see his vision through because he was wrong.” I pause, the next words heavier than the ones before. “And my mother… I only learned a year ago that she shared his fate for standing by him. They both paid the price for clinging to a world that no longer exists. The world moved on, and so must we.”

“You’re here, ruling now, Luna,” he says bluntly. A twinge of hope sparks inside me for the first time since we started these sessions.

“Yes,” I agree slowly. “I am, but with the triads, the Apex Alphas. I am their Luna. In a different system.”

Tavric frowns slightly, as if digesting the information.

“You understand the difference, don’t you, Tavric?” I ask, my pulse quickening. “My ancestors are no longer the rulers. We have a different form of government now.”

He purses his lips and studies my face. “But why?”

“Because the triads are stronger and more effective. We run things more efficiently this way.”

“We should go back to the way things were hundreds of years ago,” Tavric grumbles.

Tilting my head to the side, I lean forward, reaching for his hands. “Why? Why do we always have to fight change? It’s not always a bad thing. Look at how much you’ve changed in a year. Is this so bad?”

He looks down at himself, a small frown forming over his brow.

“But…” he trails off again and thinks about my words. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I repeat. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll give you the names.”

“W-what?” I sputter, my eyes popping. “Yeah?”

“Okay,” he agrees again.

My head whips toward the guard, blood rushing in my ears. “Get me a pen and paper!” I urge them. “Hurry up!”

My matesand I gather around the list of rebels’ names, shaking our heads in disbelief. Hands splayed over the slight swell of my womb, I feel the babies stirring gently, as if they’re sharing in our collective excitement.

“Do you believe this list is accurate?” Malachi asks skeptically, and I nod.

“I really do,” I tell him honestly. “I think he finally understands that we’re not the enemy, and that my father was not some kind of prophet.”

“Then let’s go get the rest of the rebels,” Malachi growls.

I reach out to stop him, placing a hand on his arm softly. “Let’s go at this more peacefully this time,” I beg him. Asher nods in agreement as Warrick watches us, unspeaking. “Force and violence haven’t gotten us anywhere so far. Let’s see if we can’t approach this with a bit of compassion first.”

Malachi’s eyes lock on mine, and he nods. “You’re right—as always.”

One of the house servants knocks on the office door.

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