Deep in a hillside near São Paulo, the Brasa Pack's council chamber felt older than time. It was a huge cave with walls that still showed the marks of the tools that carved it generations ago. The only light came from torches, their flames throwing shifting shadows on the stone. The air was heavy with the scents of earth, smoke, and age.
At the head of the chamber was the Alpha's throne—a massive seat carved from a single, gleaming slab of black obsidian. Polished smooth by generations of use, it caught the torchlight and shone with a cold, dangerous gleam.
Alpha Cristiano Veiga sat upon it like he'd been born there. At fifty-two, he was in his prime—broad-shouldered, heavy with muscles that spoke of both wolf and man. His face was all hard planes and sharp edges, a salt-and-pepper beard framing a mouth that rarely smiled. His eyes were amber, bright and predatory even in human form, and they saw everything. When he shifted his weight, the obsidian throne groaned beneath him, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the very bones of the earth.
Two long rows of chairs stretched from the throne toward the entrance—ancient wood worn smooth by generations of wolves. The left side housed the council's Enforcers and Warriors, their bodies coiled with barely restrained violence. The right side held the Elders and Advisors, older wolves whose power lay in wisdom and strategy rather than brute strength.
Gabriel Carvalho sat among the Elders, spine straight, jaw tight. Beside him—breaking protocol by her very presence—sat Maria, her human frame small and fragile among the wolves. She clutched a folder to her chest like a shield, photographs and autopsy reports that told the story of their son's murder in clinical, devastating detail.
At the Alpha's right hand sat Benson Oliveira, the pack's Beta. He was a man of contradictions—soft where most wolves were hard, political where others were direct. His position as principal of Souza High made him the bridge between the supernatural and human worlds, the keeper of treaties and the maintainer of peace. His face was carefully neutral, but Gabriel had known him long enough to read the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers drummed once—just once—against his thigh.
The chamber was full, every seat occupied. Wolves who rarely attended council meetings had come today, drawn by whispers of what would be discussed. The air was thick with anticipation and the musk of dozens of wolves in close quarters.
At the left side of the chamber, nearest to the Alpha, stood Diego Mendes, the pack's Gamma—third in command, Master of Ceremonies, and keeper of pack law. He was younger than most of the council, barely forty, but his authority was absolute in matters of protocol. When he spoke, his voice carried through the stone chamber like a bell.
"The Brasa Pack council is called to order," Diego announced, his tone formal and unwavering. "We gather under the light of the waning crescent, in the presence of our Alpha, to hear testimony regarding the death of Aldo Gabriel Carvalho, son of Elder Gabriel Carvalho and Maria Carvalho, born of this pack seventeen years past."
A ripple moved through the assembled wolves—some shifting in their seats, others perfectly still, all listening with the intense focus of predators.
Diego's amber eyes swept the room before landing on Gabriel. "Elder Carvalho, you have requested this audience. The floor is yours."
Gabriel rose slowly, feeling the weight of every eye upon him. He was an Omega—the weakest in terms of raw power, the bottom of the hierarchy—but he'd earned his place among the Elders through decades of wisdom, of counsel that had steered the pack through conflicts both internal and external. Today, he needed every ounce of that respect.
"Alpha Cristiano, honored council members, pack brothers and sisters," Gabriel began, his voice steady despite the grief that threatened to choke him. "I come before you not just as an Elder, but as a father seeking justice for my murdered son."
The word "murdered" landed like a stone in still water.
"Six weeks ago, Aldo was hunted through the grounds of Souza High School. He was shot multiple times with silver bullets—a weapon designed specifically to kill our kind. He called his sister, told her he was being hunted, that he couldn't heal, that he was dying." Gabriel's voice cracked, just slightly, before he steadied it. "Before his body was recovered the following morning, his head had been left behind on the school's reception desk as a message. As a warning."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Maria's hand found Gabriel's and squeezed it tight.
"The autopsy—" Gabriel gestured to the folder in Maria's lap, "—revealed that Aldo's body had been violated. His spinal cord was surgically extracted, his heart removed with precision, not violence. These were not trophies taken in the heat of a kill. They were harvested. My son was butchered like livestock for parts."
The murmurs grew louder. One of the Enforcers—a young wolf named Tiago—half-rose from his seat, a growl building in his throat, before the wolf beside him pulled him back down.
"We know who did this," Gabriel continued, his voice hardening. "Aldo told his sister before he died. Ruiz Souza and his friends—human boys from wealthy families who attend Souza High. They hunted my son, they killed him, and they desecrated his body. And yet, six weeks later, they walk free. No arrests, no charges. Nothing."
"Because the Souza's own this city," someone muttered from the Enforcer side. Gabriel didn't see who.
Alpha Cristiano's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. A slight gesture of his hand indicates Gabriel should continue.
"I ask this council—I beg this council—to demand justice. The treaty we have with the human sector was built on mutual respect, on the promise that our people would be protected under human law just as humans are protected under ours. But that treaty has been violated. My son's murder proves it."
Gabriel sat down heavily, feeling a century older than his forty-five years. Maria's hand trembled in his.
For a long moment, silence dominated the chamber. Then Benson Oliveira rose, smoothing his expensive suit jacket as he did. Every eye turned to the Beta.
"Alpha, honored council," Benson began, his voice measured, sympathetic—the voice of a politician. "My heart breaks for Elder Gabriel and his family. The loss of a child is a wound that never fully heals. Aldo was a student at my school. I knew him. I watched him grow. His death is a tragedy that weighs heavily on all of us."
"But?" Gabriel said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
Benson's expression flickered—a momentary crack in his careful facade. "But we must be cautious. We must be wise. The evidence, while compelling emotionally, is not enough to break a treaty that has kept our pack safe for three generations."
"Not enough?" Gabriel shot to his feet. "My son named his killers! He told his sister—"
"A dying boy's final words, heard through a poor phone connection, while under extreme duress," Benson interrupted gently, but firmly. "The human authorities investigated. They questioned the boys. All of them have alibis. All of them claim they were nowhere near the school that night."
"They're lying!" Maria's voice rang out, sharp and desperate. She stood, clutching the folder. "They killed our son and you're protecting them because of some treaty? Because you're afraid?"
Several council members stiffened. A few exchanged glances. Humans didn't speak in pack council. Ever. It was a fundamental rule, as old as the pack itself.
Benson's face hardened. "Mrs. Carvalho, with all due respect, you have no voice in this chamber. This is a matter of pack law, pack politics. You are human, and your presence here is a mere courtesy extended to Elder Gabriel—"
"She is my wife," Gabriel snarled, his own wolf rising in his voice, making it deeper, rougher. "The mother of my son. She has every right—"
"She has no rights here!" The shout came from one of the Warriors—Marco, a traditionalist who'd never approved of humans mating with wolves. "Her son went rogue! He rejected his wolf! He stopped coming to pack gatherings! He didn't train with us!He didn't hunt with us! And now you want us to risk everything—our treaty, our safety, our lives—for a wolf who turned his back on his pack?"
"He was seventeen!" Gabriel roared, his control finally snapping. "He was a child trying to figure out who he was! That doesn't mean he deserves to be murdered!"
"No, it means he made himself vulnerable!" Marco shot back, rising to his feet. "If he'd stayed with the pack, if he'd trained, if he'd been wolf instead of trying to human, maybe he'd still be alive!"
"How dare you—" Gabriel lunged, but two other Elders grabbed his arms, holding him back.
The chamber erupted. Half the council was on their feet, shouting. Some sided with Gabriel—justice for a fallen pack member, treaty be damned. Others sided with Benson and Marco—caution, safety, the wisdom of not provoking a war they couldn't win.
"He was one of us!" Someone shouted.
"He rejected us!"
"The humans broke the treaty first!"
"We have no proof!"
"His body was harvested—what more proof do you need?!"
Maria stood frozen, tears streaming down her face, her voice lost in the cacophony. Gabriel struggled against the hands holding him, his wolf so close to the surface his eyes had begun to glow amber.
And then Alpha Cristiano Veiga rose from his obsidian throne.
He didn't shout. He didn't have to.
The command rolled out from him like a physical wave—the weight of his dominance, his absolute authority pressing down on every wolf in the chamber. It was instinct, biological, and undeniable.
Every wolf fell silent instantly, many dropping back into their seats, heads bowing slightly in automatic submission. Even Gabriel, furious as he was, felt his wolf submit, felt his body relax against his will.
The Alpha descended the three steps from his throne, moving with the deliberate grace of a predator who knew he was apex. He walked to the center of the chamber, into the space between the two rows of chairs, and turned slowly, his amber eyes touching each council member in turn.
"Six weeks," he said, his voice low and controlled but carrying effortlessly through the silent chamber. "Six weeks ago, one of our young wolves died. Whether he was running towards us or away from us, he was ours. His blood is Brasa blood. His wolf came from our line."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"Elder Gabriel asks for justice. He asks us to honor the treaty we made with humans—a treaty that promises protection, that promises law. He is right that if the treaty has been broken, we must respond." Another pause. "But Beta Benson is also right that we must be wise. We must be certain. We cannot risk war—and make no mistake, that is what we would face if we move against the Souza family —without being absolutely certain of our cause."
Alpha Cristiano turned to face Gabriel directly. "I knew your son, Elder Gabriel. I remember when he first shifted, when his wolf emerged. I remember the fear in his eyes, and the pride in yours. What happened to him is an abomination. The desecration of his body is an insult to every wolf in this pack."
Hope flared in Gabriel's chest.
"But," the Alpha continued, and that hope guttered like a candle, "we will not act rashly. We will not charge into battle on emotion alone, no matter how righteous that emotion may be."
"Alpha—" Gabriel begun.
Cristiano raised one hand, silencing him. "The council will deliberate. We will investigate further. We will determine if there is enough evidence to demand human justice, or if we must seek our own. But we will do so carefully. We will do so thoroughly."
He returned to his throne, the obsidian groaning as he sat, and his eyes—those burning amber eyes—fixed on Gabriel with something that might have been sympathy.
"You will have the council's decision before the next Yellow Moon."
The words hit Gabriel like a physical blow. The Yellow Moon—an auspicious night when the pack made its most important decisions, when the veil between wolf and spirit was thinnest—was two months away. Two months.
"Alpha, please," Gabriel's voice was hoarse, desperate. "Two months is too long. We've already waited six weeks. Every day that passes, the trail grows colder. Evidence disappears, witnesses forget. Please, I'm begging you—"
"The council has spoken," Alpha Cristiano said, and there was finality in his tone that could not be challenged. "You will have your answer before the Yellow Moon. Until then, you will trust in your pack, in your Alpha, to seek the truth."
Gabriel stared at him, a thousand arguments dying on his tongue. He couldn't challenge the Alpha directly. Not here, not like this. To do so would risk his position on the council, would risk everything he'd built over decades of service.
He was trapped, and they both knew it.
Slowly, feeling every one of his years, Gabriel stood. He placed his fist over his heart and bowed his head—the traditional sign of respect to an Alpha's ruling. "As you command, Alpha Cristiano."
He reached for Maria's hand, finding it cold and shaking. She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes that held a question he couldn't answer: What now?
Together, they turned and walked toward the chamber's exit. Behind them, the council remained silent, watching them leave. Some faces held sympathy, other relief, and a few showed nothing at all.
Just before they reached the doorway, Gabriel heard Diego's voice ring out behind them, "This council is adjourned. May the moon light your paths."
The stone door closed behind them with a hollow boom that sounded like a coffin lid slamming shut.
In the dim corridor beyond, Maria finally broke. A son tore from her throat, and she collapsed against Gabriel, her body shaking with grief and rage and helpless frustration.
"Two months," she whispered into his chest. "Two months, Gabriel. They're going to let our son's killers walk free for two more months."
Gabriel wrapped his arms around her, pressed his face into her hair, and said nothing.
Because what could he say?
That he'd failed their son in life, and now he was failing him in death? That the pack he'd served loyally for decades had just turned its back on their family? That justice, real justice, might never come?
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. It buzzed again. And again.
With a tired sigh, he pulled it out, squinting at the screen.
He had several messages from his mother:
Where are you, Mr Gabriel? This is Camila, texting from Grandma's phone. Please come home quick, Reina has just been arrested.