Chapter 6 – The Meeting

Selene’s POV

A sharp knock hit the door.

Before I could answer, Mira pushed it open and stepped in like she owned the place. She was dressed in her usual black outfit—tight pants, tucked shirt, boots that barely made a sound on the marble floors. Her eyes scanned the room like a soldier.

“Get up,” she said without emotion. “You have thirty minutes.”

I groaned into my pillow, my throat dry and my body aching from the terrible sleep. I had curled into a corner of the massive bed, refusing to touch the soft sheets. They smelled too much like him.

“What for?” I mumbled.

“Meeting with the council. The Alpha said black.”

Of course. The big wolves wanted to see Damian’s new toy.

“I’m not going,” I muttered, turning away from her.

She didn’t reply.

Instead, she walked straight to the closet and flung the doors open. It was huge, filled with black clothes—dresses, blazers, pants, heels. Everything looked new, expensive, and too fancy for someone like me.

“I said I’m not going,” I snapped, sitting up.

Mira looked over her shoulder. “You are going.”

I stood up slowly, my head pounding. “You don’t get to order me around.”

She raised a brow. “You’re his Luna now. That comes with duties.”

“I never agreed to be his Luna,” I hissed. “He forced this.”

She didn’t flinch. “Doesn’t change the title. You can either show up looking like a queen or like a brat. Choose.”

I clenched my jaw and walked to the closet, ripping a plain black dress off the hanger.

“This one,” I said coldly.

Mira didn’t answer. She just dropped a box with black heels on the bed and waited.

I glared at her. “You plan to stare at me the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“No,” she said flatly. “I’m following orders. And you’re wasting time.”

I turned around and yanked the old shirt off my body, not caring if she saw the bruises on my arms or the tiredness on my face. She didn’t gasp. She didn’t blink.

No sympathy. Just duty.

Once I was dressed, Mira held out a hairbrush.

“Brush it yourself,” I snapped.

She dropped it on the vanity without a word. “Ten minutes left.”

I walked over, brushed my hair roughly, and threw it behind my shoulders. When I finally looked at myself in the mirror, I hated what I saw. The black dress fit perfectly, but I felt like a stranger in it. My face was pale, my eyes hollow.

“You don’t look like a Luna,” I muttered.

“You don’t have to,” Mira said from behind me. “Just act like one.”

The hall outside was cold and quiet.

Guards lined the walls—tall men in black suits, each with a weapon. They didn’t speak, didn’t look. They just stood there like statues, as if one wrong move from me would be my last.

Mira led me through the house. Every hallway was long and dark, with expensive paintings on the walls—wolves in battle, kings on thrones, blood dripping from claws.

I didn’t feel like a queen here.

I felt like prey.

After several turns, we reached two massive black doors. Silver carvings of wolves and roses twisted across them. Mira knocked once.

Then opened them.

The room inside was like a throne room from some dark castle. A long table stretched through the middle, surrounded by chairs. Thick gray curtains covered the tall windows, and gold candles flickered from the walls, casting shadows across everyone’s faces.

At the far end of the table sat Damian Wolfe.

He looked different today. Dressed in a tailored black suit, blood-red shirt, no tie. Clean-shaven. His eyes were sharper than ever.

He didn’t say anything.

He just stared at me.

I returned the stare and walked forward with my chin up, even if my knees felt weak. Everyone’s eyes followed me—dozens of them. All powerful wolves. Alphas. Betas. Councilmen.

Judging me.

I sat beside Damian, not looking at him.

“This is her?” an old man asked.

“She is Selene Blackthorne,” Damian said. “My Luna.”

I heard the judgment in their silence.

Too young. Too wild. Too weak.

Let them think it.

Let them laugh now.

The meeting started. I stayed quiet.

They talked about land disputes, rival packs, weapons, and illegal trades. I didn’t understand half of it, but I listened. I learned. I watched who spoke the most, who disagreed with Damian, who stayed silent.

After about twenty minutes, a woman near the end of the table looked at me.

She was beautiful. Older. Cold green eyes and a perfect smile.

“Luna Selene,” she said. “How are you finding the estate?”

I met her gaze. “It’s quiet. Like a tomb.”

Someone near her laughed under their breath.

Damian didn’t.

“She has fire,” the woman said.

“She’ll need it,” Damian replied, sipping from a glass.

I clenched my fists under the table.

I wasn’t his to present. I wasn’t a weapon. I was a person.

But no one here saw me that way.

By the time it ended, my head felt like it was going to explode. I was silent, but every second had been a fight—to stay calm, to stay alert, to not break in front of them.

As the council members began to leave, a man passed by me and leaned down.

“You’ll never be one of us,” he whispered.