Chapter 11 Chapter 11: The Arbiter's Judgment

I wake to three things: dawn light through unfamiliar windows, Hawk's arm around my waist, and the pack bonds humming with tension in my mind. The marks on my wrist ache—a reminder that yesterday was real, permanent, life-altering.

"He's here," Hawk murmurs against my neck. "The arbiter. Derek just signaled."

I sit up carefully. My body is a map of bruises from Natalia's beating, but when I touch them, they're already fading to yellow-green instead of the purple-black they should be.

"The mate bond," Hawk explains, watching me examine the healing. "Your body's learning to repair like ours. Not as fast, but faster than human normal."

"That's going to be hard to explain at work."

"Maybe it's time to stop explaining. To choose this life fully." His eyes search mine. "The arbiter is Councilman Frost from the Northern Territories. He's old—five hundred years at least—and traditional. Conservative. The mate bond between species, the human integration, your father's potential awakening... It's everything he fears about the modern world corrupting pack purity."

My stomach knots. "So we're starting with a hostile judge."

"Essentially." Hawk stands, offering his hand. "But we have one advantage. You survived Natalia's challenge. That proves strength, commitment. It's hard to argue against results."

River appears at the door with fresh clothes—practical this time, not ceremonial. "Arbiter's in the main lodge. Everyone's gathering. You need to look strong, Luna. Alpha's mate is strong."

Twenty minutes later, I'm standing beside Hawk in a lodge packed with nervous wolves. And at the center, sitting in what looks like a throne carved from a single piece of wood, is Councilman Frost.

He's ancient—white hair, white beard, eyes like chips of ice. His presence fills the room, heavy with power and judgment. When those ice-chip eyes land on me, I feel pinned, dissected, found wanting.

"So," he says, his voice surprisingly soft for someone so intimidating, "this is the human who claims to be alpha's mate."

"I am alpha's mate," I correct, meeting his gaze even though every instinct screams to look away. "Claimed and bonded. The marks are witness." I show him my wrist.

Frost studies the claiming marks with an expression I can't read. "Marks can be forced. Bonds can be faked."

"Not this bond." Sage steps forward, surprising me. "I conducted the ceremony. I felt the bond snap into place. It's genuine—one of the strongest I've witnessed in two centuries."

"And yet she's human. Weak. A liability." Frost stands, and he's tall—taller than Hawk, built like a warrior despite his age. "Hawk Blackthorn, you've led this pack for how long?"

"Seventy-three years," Hawk answers steadily.

"Seventy-three years of peace. Of staying hidden. Of maintaining the treaties that keep humans ignorant and our people safe. And in three weeks, you've thrown all of that away for a woman you barely know." Frost circles us slowly. "Viktor Steele has filed a formal complaint with the Council. He claims your human mate makes you unfit to lead, that your judgment is compromised, that you're risking exposure for personal satisfaction. How do you answer these charges?"

"Viktor Steele is a liar and a murderer," Hawk says, steel in his voice. "He's orchestrating attacks to frame my pack, destabilize my leadership, and take this territory for himself and to harm humans, which has been his ultimate aim. My mate hasn't compromised my judgment—she's helped me see threats I might have missed."

"Has she?" Frost stops in front of me. "Luna Blackthorn. Tell me—why should the Council allow a human to remain bonded to an alpha? What do you bring to this pack besides weakness and exposure risk?"

My mouth goes dry. Every eye in the room is on me. Through the bond, I feel Hawk's tension, his fear that I'll say the wrong thing.

But I also feel the pack—thirty-seven souls watching, waiting, some hoping I'll succeed, others waiting for me to fail.

"I bring perspective," I say finally. "I'm a wildlife ranger. I know human law, human thinking, and how investigations work. When Viktor's attacks drew federal attention, I bought us time—three days to handle him before hunters arrive with kill authorization. Without me, this pack would already be facing armed humans with legal permission to slaughter them."

Frost's expression doesn't change. "Temporary advantage. What about long-term? Humans age. Die. Your mate will watch you wither and disappear in what amounts to a heartbeat for him. How is that not a weakness?"

The question hits harder than Natalia's fists. I look at Hawk, seeing the truth in his eyes—he's thought about this, feared it, maybe even tried to talk himself out of the bond because of it.

"Maybe it is," I admit. "Maybe loving someone you'll outlive by centuries is a weakness. Or maybe it's strength—choosing to love fully, knowing it won't last forever. Isn't that what makes it precious?"

Silence falls. Even Frost seems surprised by the answer.

"And there's something else," Sage says, her voice cutting through the quiet. "Luna isn't entirely human. Her father is showing signs of dormant werewolf genes activating. Her healing is already accelerated beyond human normal. It's possible—not certain, but possible—that she carries latent werewolf DNA. That this bond awakened something dormant."

Frost turns to her sharply. "You're suggesting she might shift?"

"I'm suggesting there's precedent. Three generations ago, a human woman bonded to Alpha Redwood. Within a year, she achieved a hybrid form—not full wolf, but something between. The Council ruled it acceptable because she wasn't weakening the alpha; she was evolving to match him." Sage meets my eyes, and there's something in her expression I still can't read. "If Luna has werewolf ancestry, the bond might trigger the same evolution."

My heart hammers. Is that even possible? Could I actually—

"Speculation," Frost dismisses. "Until she shifts, she's human. A liability." He turns back to Hawk. "The Council's concern isn't just about your mate. It's about the larger pattern. Viktor's rebellion, federal investigation, internal pack tensions, your beta's concerns about exposure—it paints a picture of lost control."

"Viktor started this war, not me," Hawk says. "And we're ending it. Within seventy-two hours, his pack will be neutralized, his threat eliminated, and this territory will be secure again."

"Bold claim. Can you guarantee it?"

"Yes."

The single word hangs in the air—absolute, unwavering.

Frost studies him for a long moment. Then: "Very well. The Council grants you seventy-two hours. If Viktor is handled, if the federal threat is resolved, if your pack remains stable and hidden, we'll accept the human mate bond as... an unusual but not unprecedented situation. However—"

He moves to stand directly in front of me.

"—If you fail, if this territory is exposed, if humans discover our existence because of your choices, the Council will dissolve this pack. Scatter your members to other territories. And you, Luna Blackthorn, will be memory-wiped and returned to human life with no knowledge of our world. That is the price of failure."

Horror crashes through me. Memory-wiped. Forgetting Hawk, the pack, everything I've become in these past weeks. Returned to that stagnant life as if none of this ever happened.

"That's barbaric," I breathe.

"That's necessary. Our survival depends on secrecy. One human's memories are a small price to pay for the safety of thousands of werewolves worldwide." Frost steps back. "Seventy-two hours. After that, I return for judgment. Choose wisely how you spend that time."

He leaves without another word, two massive wolves I hadn't even noticed following him out. The moment he's gone, the lodge erupts—wolves arguing, planning, panicking.

Hawk pulls me aside, his face pale. "We move tonight. Full assault on Viktor's compound. Derek's team will create a diversion at the eastern entrance while we breach from the west. It's risky, but we're out of options."

"I'm coming with you."

"Absolutely not. You're injured, newly bonded, and if something happens to you—"

"—it happens to you, too. I know. But Hawk, I can help. I know these mountains better than Viktor's rogues do. I know the mine system—I've mapped every abandoned shaft in this region for the Forest Service. And I'm a trained tracker. You need me."

Through the bond, I feel his war between his protective instinct and tactical sense. Finally, he nods. "Fine. But you stay with me. Always within sight. No heroics."

"No heroics," I agree, lying through my teeth.

The next hours blur into frantic preparation. Derek briefs us on the mine layout—multiple entrances, unstable tunnels, perfect defensive terrain. Sage distributes weapons—silver-edged blades that make the wolves flinch just being near them. River teaches me emergency pack signals, ways to call for help through the bond if I'm separated.

Around noon, my phone rings. Marcus.

"Luna, where the hell are you? Blackwood is losing his mind. You missed your shift, you're not answering calls—"

"Marcus, I can't explain right now. But I need you to trust me. Stay away from the mountains tonight. Keep everyone away from the northern quadrant, especially the old Silvercrest mine."

Silence. Then: "What's happening at Silvercrest?"

"Something dangerous. Something that'll be resolved by tomorrow. Just trust me. Please."

"Luna—"

"I have to go. I'll explain everything soon. I promise." I hang up before he can argue.

Hawk appears at my elbow. "Your human partner?"

"He deserves to know some version of the truth. After this is over, we need to bring him in. He's already suspicious, and he's too good an investigator to keep fooled much longer."

"We'll talk about expanding the circle of trust." Hawk checks his weapons—wicked-looking knives that gleam silver. "But first, we end Viktor."