Moonfall | Book Two

CHAPTER 7

If there was one thing Michael could confidently say he was good at, it was being a fly on the wall during pack meetings. It was not hard. He listened, but never spoke nor made a sound. His presence was required only to save face in front of the pack, not because his father actually wanted him there, despite forcing Michael into obedience by making him agree to attend.

This meeting was no different.

He found himself tucked away behind the dozens of predominantly male pack members that filled the Throne Room—close enough to the raised platform for his father to peer down and see he was in attendance, yet far enough to ensure he could be the first out the door once the meeting ended. To uphold the promise he had made, he would put in his time, get through the meeting, and then leave.

But they were already an hour in, and Michael was in constant battle with himself not to yawn. As hard as he tried to will himself to be interested in the pack's declining birth rates and lack of legitimate heirs, something more interesting garnered his attention—the fairy.

While his father rambled on about pros and cons of siring pups with omegas and not their mates, Michael, instead, thought about how she, who was someone's child, had been alone in the Woodlands for nearly a year. While pack members vehemently talked over one another, his mind recalled the softness in her voice that made him think it impossible for her to ever raise her voice above a loud whisper.

She puzzled him. Made him second guess if helping her was the correct decision. She had not come right out and verbally agreed with his plan, but Michael felt confident when he left her in the Woodlands two days prior that she was on board. But there was a lack of happiness, excitement or hopefulness he expected her to show after being presented with the opportunity to be reunited with her people.

Does she not believe it possible? Or does she doubt my ability to keep such a promise?

As he pondered between which of the two questions might hurt his pride less, he heard his name being called. He looked up from the floor to see all eyes in the room were on him, and the crowd that had surrounded him cleared a direct path that led from the stairs of the platform towards him—a path for his father to stare down at him from his throne.

The eerie silence in combination with the stares could have only meant a question had been directed at him. One in which every pair of ears in the room was waiting to hear the answer to.

It seemed his plan to get through the meeting unscathed and unnoticed had failed.

Michael looked across the room at his father and dropped his crossed arms to his sides. "I am sorry, father, can you repeat?"

Even with the distance between them, Michael caught the slight look of annoyance that crossed his father's face. "I said perhaps the sooner you are mated, the better. Once you are, you will have a duty to sire an heir and continue our blood line. Would you not agree?"

Michael's hands immediately balled into fists, the only reaction he could allow himself to have.

Of all the directions he might have thought this meeting would go, that had certainly not been one of them. It was obvious his father had called him out because he knew Michael would not—could not—openly reject anything his father—his Alpha—said. He wanted submission, and he wanted it in front of the pack.

"I did not realize we were here to discuss my personal matters, father."

"What you deem as 'personal matters' is detrimental to the wellbeing of the pack. As their future leader, it is your duty to resolve any and all issues."

When did this become my problem, and why is it my problem to fix? He had a long, long way to go before ever becoming the next Alpha. And unless his father—who had decades still left in him to continue as the pack's leader—had intentions of stepping down, then this was very much his father's problem.