CHAPTER 236: WHO IS SHE?

Jared was pissed off, and it showed in every detail of his presence. His aura—thick, suffocating, bristling with fury—rolled off him in waves that seemed to claw at the walls of the council chamber. He did not need to roar or lift a weapon. The tension of his body alone, the sheer pressure of his dominance, was enough to pin every man and woman in the room beneath its crushing weight.

He sat at the long oaken table as though upon a throne, back straight, arms resting lightly upon the carved armrests, yet the silence between his measured breaths thundered as loud as any battle horn. His golden eyes glowed faintly, his jaw tight with restrained rage. Every person present—lords of the werewolf houses, their heirs, warriors sworn to his banner—sat stiff-backed and wide-eyed, afraid even to draw a full breath in his presence.

When he finally opened his mouth to speak, the sound was not so much words as a growl, low and dangerous, that reverberated through the beams overhead and into the very marrow of those present.

"Kannedy."

The name cracked across the chamber like a whip.

The werewolf in question—a broad-shouldered man with a streak of silver in his dark hair—flinched visibly, lowering his head at once. He had spoken only moments ago, voicing the same worry that had been gnawing at all of them, but he had dared to phrase it without offering more than an obvious complaint.

"If you are aware we need a solution," Jared said, his words sharp, deliberate, each one carrying the weight of an executioner’s blade, "why don’t you provide the solution? You say we need something to identify the shapeshifting monsters from other werewolves. Do you think you have told me something I did not already know?"

His voice rose, no longer a simmering growl but a rolling snarl that filled the room and settled deep in every chest like a heavy stone.

"You’ve told us nothing but the obvious!"

The reprimand struck harder than a blow. Brilla, a female wolf from one of the lesser houses, stiffened in her seat, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as if bracing herself from being singled out as well. Her brown eyes flickered uneasily toward Kannedy, but she quickly dropped her gaze, shoulders taut, willing herself invisible beneath Jared’s searing fury.

Kannedy, however, looked the worst of them all. His expression collapsed under the weight of shame, his head bowed so low it nearly brushed the polished wood of the table. His throat worked as though he wanted to speak, to explain, but the weight of his Alpha’s wrath left him unable to do more than grit his teeth and endure it.

Jared’s fury did not abate. His broad chest rose and fell with the force of his breathing, though his face remained as composed as chiseled stone. Only his eyes betrayed the storm within—eyes that gleamed like molten gold, burning with irritation and contempt.

His voice cut the air again, this time lower, sharper.

"I hear King Zyren’s pet has gained powers—powers that can distinguish the monsters from other people."

The words were spoken with a sneer, his lip curling back slightly as though even speaking them left a foul taste in his mouth. A murmur of unease rippled through the gathered heads of houses, but not one dared to raise their voice.

"This means we will have to ask for help." Jared’s tone dropped into a rumble of distaste, each word bitter as venom. "Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I would willingly bow my head to that parasite of a king and his bloodsucking court?"

He leaned forward suddenly, his palms slamming down onto the table with enough force to rattle the goblets, sending a few toppling and spilling wine across the wood.

"I would rather rip the fur from my own back, tear out my ears, than beg him for aid!" he snarled. "But what choice do we have? Any longer and even you—" his glowing gaze swept the room, piercing each of them in turn, "—even you who sit at this table will be turned into monsters, and none of us will know it until it is too late."

A heavy silence followed, the kind that made the firelight flickering in the sconces seem deafening. The councilors shifted uneasily, every instinct telling them not to move until dismissed.

Jared straightened, his hands curling into fists as though strangling the thought itself. Then his voice rolled out once more, cold and commanding.

"A delegation will go with me, and we will bring her back to cleanse our lands. If she resists, we will take her. If Zyren resists, we will strike his forces, cripple his attention, and steal her from beneath his nose. Even if we must spill blood to do it—we will have her

."

The authority in his tone allowed no room for question, no hint of debate. He fixed each head of house with his molten gaze, daring them silently to defy him. None did.

"Get ready," he ordered, his voice final, his jaw set like iron. "Be prepared. This war will come sooner than you think. We’ll move under shadow, strike where it hurts. I’ll hear no excuses."

The tension in the chamber finally broke as the heads of houses pushed back their chairs and rose to their feet, heads bowed low in submission.

"By your will, Alpha," they said, voices echoing one after another, a ritualistic chorus that sealed their obedience.

Jared inclined his head once, curt, dismissing them. They filed out swiftly, robes whispering over the stone floor, the doors groaning as they shut behind the last of them.

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating, until Jared finally exhaled, the sound escaping him in a rough sigh through his nostrils. His shoulders sank a fraction, though his aura remained heavy and charged.

He thought himself alone—until he realized one had not left.

Clara.

She still sat beside him, her posture calm, her silken gown of shimmering blue catching the light of the torches. Unlike the others, she did not rush to obey his dismissal. She remained perfectly composed, her hands folded neatly, her face a mask of serenity. Yet her presence was deliberate, defiant in its silence.

Jared did not turn to her at once. His jaw flexed, his golden gaze fixed forward. Only after several heartbeats of silence did he finally speak, his tone edged with impatience.

"What do you want, Clara?" he asked, his voice low and flat. "You wouldn’t still be here unless you wanted something."

Her lips parted, and though her expression remained calm, there was steel beneath her words.

"Sleep with me, Jared," she said bluntly. "I need a child. You need an heir."

The words hung in the chamber like a sudden gust of ice.

Jared’s eyes narrowed. In an instant, his composure shattered, his fury igniting anew. He surged forward, his hand sweeping across the table. Goblets clattered, papers flew, a silver plate spun and crashed to the floor with a ringing clang. The violence of the gesture echoed in the vaulted chamber as Jared turned on her, eyes blazing.

"Even with monsters crawling at our gates, even with our kind being devoured, this is what you dare to speak of?" His voice thundered, sharp and filled with venom. "An heir? You think I’ll waste time rutting while our people are being slaughtered?"

His lip curled, baring the sharp edges of his teeth.

"For all I know, you could be a monster yourself!"

Clara did not flinch. She rose slowly, with the grace of a queen, her hands smoothing the silken folds of her gown. Her eyes—cool, deep blue—met his golden ones without wavering.

"You bed whores, Jared," she said, her voice calm but laced with bitterness. "You spread your seed in taverns, in brothels, in hunting camps, but not with me. Not with your Luna. Not with your wife."

He growled, but she stepped closer, following him as he rose abruptly from his chair and strode toward the stairs that led to his private chambers.

"You can rage, you can throw your tantrums, but the truth remains. My duty as Luna is to provide you an heir. That is what I was chosen for. That is the duty of my womb, the requirement of my title. Or am I less than the women you take to bed without thought?"

Jared did not answer. His footsteps were heavy as he climbed the stairs, but Clara followed, her voice echoing behind him, unrelenting.

"Tell me, Jared! Is it because you’ve found your mate?"

That made him pause. His back stiffened. His hand froze on the carved banister. Slowly, he turned his head just enough for his glowing eyes to catch the torchlight, sharp as blades.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked, his tone cold, defensive.

Clara’s lips curved into the faintest of bitter smiles. She lifted her chin, her voice steady as she pressed the wound she knew she had found.

"It is the only reason you would spurn me. The only reason you would refuse me, when duty demands otherwise. No Alpha would deny his Luna unless his heart was already chained elsewhere. So tell me, Jared..."

Her eyes locked with his, unblinking.

"Who is she?"