The Alpha's Fated Outcast Rise Of The Moonsinger novel Chapter 410

Clarissa

The grandfather clock in the massive meeting hall was the loudest thing in the room.

I sat alone, staring at it without seeing it as the hands moved wearily round the clock, repeating the same movement for each cycle. I was at the head of the long table of the Southern Core Council chamber, hands folded on an empty notepad, a folder that contained today's agenda and a cup of coffee going cold at my elbow.

The hall had been scrubbed until the marble shone; banners for each southern pack were washed and ironed, hanging on the walls on the opposite side of the room. There was a small buffet table with plenty of food.

I'd painstakingly inquired from each pack Alpha's Luna what their husband's favourite meal was and made the entire kitchen staff imitate the recipe to perfection. I'd arrived before dawn, practised my lines in front of the mirror 100 times a day, and rehearsed it in front of my mom and speech coach to make sure I wasn't being rude.

But it was past noon now, and no one had shown up.

I know I am a people pleaser, I won't even deny that. Being in Lyla's shadow for too long turned me into the good girl—the one who tries to do everything right.

Finally marrying Nathan, and in the short span of our marriage, even in his death, I'd struggled for his affection.

I was the child who grew up with love and attention from both parents. My dad never missed a school day or talent show, and never failed to tell me how much he loved me. I knew I was precious to him; he told me every day.

Yet, I constantly had to defend my father's love to the world, or a stranger's kindness. How the topic always moved from me to Lyla every time, but all that was in the past. I was no longer jealous of my sister because we both had difficult lives growing up.

We were the product of adults who couldn't make better decisions.

I was still a people pleaser, and Lyla was still selfish and manipulative.

Anyways, I've been waiting for five hours.

Watching the six empty chairs stare back at me around the table that had once hosted the most powerful Alphas in the South.

I didn't fidget. I refused to give in to the urge to pace, nor did I try to check my phone. Leaders set the tone, and today, the tone would not be one of impatience. It would be endurance.

Outside the high windows, Blue Ridge pack continued to thrive. Warriors were changing shifts, while healers who had played a significant role in the last war were now free to practice as any modern-day doctor would.

Life has settled back pretty much in Blue Ridge, and I'd made it all possible.

Amongst all the werewolf packs, Blue Ridge seemed to be the only pack that had moved on after the war, and it was all thanks to watching and learning silently from my father.

I took my gaze off the clock and stared at the folded agenda next to my coffee cup.

They were simple and practical terms that would benefit everyone. All it needed was a table of cooperative Alphas.

I adjusted my position in the head chair – my father's chair – and smoothed down my navy blazer for what felt like the hundredth time. The leather beneath me still smelled faintly of his cologne, a reminder of the man who had built Blue Ridge into the cornerstone of southern pack politics.

The same man who had loved me fiercely, but whose heart had always held a special place for Lyla that I could never reach.

Don't think about that now, I told myself, focusing instead on the empty chairs.

Each one represented an Alpha who had confirmed their attendance for this meeting three weeks ago. Each one was a leader who had supposedly respected my father's legacy and what Blue Ridge stood for. Each one is now making a statement with their absence.

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