Page 60 of Alpha Charmed

She’s about to get one.

SIXTEEN

CAIUS

Cordelia will move against her within the week. I’d put money on it, if I were the betting kind—which, according to Rhodes’s meticulously kept ledger, I apparently am not allowed to be anymore after the last incident.

I spend the morning making calls instead. Quiet ones. The kind that don’t generate paperwork.

Three alphas owe me favors old enough to have interest accrued. I collect on all of them before noon, and by the time I’m done, there isn’t a council member in Mistvale who doesn’t know the wolves are watching how this plays out.

Let Cordelia try something in front of that.

Bram finds me sharpening a knife I don’t need sharpened and wisely says nothing about it.

“You could just tell her you’re handling it,” he offers instead. “The coven leader. She might appreciate the update.”

“She’d appreciate it less than she’d resent the implication that she can’t handle her own council.”

“Fair.” He considers. “So instead you’re just going to—what. Loom, supportively, from a distance?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Excellent plan. Very subtle.”

I ignore him, the way I ignore most unhelpful commentary, and spend the rest of the morning the way I’ve spent every morning since the claiming—thinking about her more than the schedule allows, and letting it happen anyway.

She woke up stronger than the night before. Steadier. I felt it in the way she held my hand this morning, no hesitation in her grip, no bracing for the wrongness her magic used to expect from itself.

Whatever Cordelia’s planning, she’s planning it against a woman who has finally stopped fighting her own power.

That’s not the coven leader Cordelia thinks she’s facing.

I sharpen the knife a little more than necessary, put it away, and go to make sure I’m standing where Anouk will be able to see me the moment she walks into that chamber.

SEVENTEEN

ANOUK

The Elder Council Chamber feels different today. The tension is immediate, thick enough to punch a hole through.

I pause at the threshold, taking stock. Cordelia has positioned herself at the far end of the table, flanked by two council members I once considered reasonable. Vera catches my eye and gives an almost imperceptible nod—she’s ready.

Cordelia’s hands are folded on the table with a stillness that catches my attention even across the room. Not patience, exactly. Something more contained than that—like a breath held with deliberate purpose.

The gallery is fuller than usual. Word travels fast in Mistvale, and apparently “emergency council session about the coven leader’s controversial claiming” draws a crowd. I spot Sunny Clearwater in the third row, Biscuit the toad perched on her shoulder with his usual look of cosmic disapproval. Berry Thornwick is scribbling notes with the intensity of someone documenting history. Even Marcus and Thalia have emerged from The Crescent Cup to observe—the vampires rarely attend daylight functions, which means they’re expecting drama worth the sun exposure.

I enter through the main doors, spine straight, stride unhurried. Every lesson in leadership I’ve absorbed over my career condenses into this moment: show no uncertainty, project absolute confidence, make them wonder what you know that they don’t.

“This is a coven matter.” Cordelia’s voice carries across the chamber, motherly concern masking calculation. “I’m not sure why the shifter leadership has chosen to attend.”

“They’re here as observers.” Vera takes her seat with pointed calm. “As is their right under the cooperation accords you helped draft, Elder Cordelia.”

A flicker of tension—annoyance? fear?—crosses Cordelia’s face before her practiced smile returns. “Of course. I simply meant that this is a sensitive discussion about coven governance. Outside influence seems… inappropriate.”

“Noted.” I don’t sit. Standing gives me the advantage—height, position, the subtle reminder that I’m still the one in charge. “Shall we begin?”

The other council members settle into their chairs. Jasper Moonwell fidgets with his notes, avoiding eye contact with everyone. Two of Cordelia’s allies watch me with expressions of careful neutrality that probably seemed sympathetic when they practiced in the mirror this morning.