You Want My Crown Fine Take the Trash Too (by Mountain River) novel Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

A week had passed since I completed my recovery at the Moon Goddess Temple, and now I found myself back within the familiar confines of the Silvermoon pack. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of expectations pressing down on me as I re-entered this world.

Word had spread like wildfire across the country, and nearly every werewolf had heard the shocking tale of an Alpha who had made a grave misstep. He had dared to offend the cherished sister of the Lycan Chairman, a figure of immense authority in the realm of werewolves. The gravity of his mistake sent ripples of anxiety throughout the packs, each one watching the unfolding drama with bated breath, fearful of the repercussions that could follow.

In the interim, Donovan and I had established our temporary base in the council hall of the Silvermoon pack, which had inadvertently transformed into the epicenter of power in the country. The hall, with its high ceilings and imposing wooden beams, echoed with the whispers of those who had come to seek guidance and support in these uncertain times.

That afternoon, I sat by the tall window, sunlight streaming in, casting a warm glow on the pages of the book I held. My mind, however, was far from the story unfolding in front of me. I was lost in thought, contemplating the precarious position we found ourselves in, when a Gamma warrior entered the hall. He bowed deeply, his posture reflecting the seriousness of the moment. “Lycan Chairman, Ms. Luneborn, the leaders of the Bloodmoon and Darkmoon packs request an audience.”

I turned my gaze to Donovan, who occupied the head of the hall, his demeanor calm, almost detached. His icy eyes remained closed, yet he spoke with an air of authority that demanded respect. “Let them in,” he said lazily, as if the weight of the world rested lightly on his shoulders.

Moments later, two formidable figures strode into the room, flanked by attendants who bore extravagant gifts. The atmosphere shifted as they entered, a palpable tension filling the air. “Greetings, Lycan Chairman!” they proclaimed, their voices echoing off the stone walls.

“Greetings,” Donovan replied, his tone devoid of warmth.

As the two leaders lifted their heads, their gazes locked onto me. I could sense their careful respect, their deference palpable in the way they carried themselves. The elder, the Alpha of the Bloodmoon pack, was the first to break the silence.

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