Chapter 115: Chapter 115
We burst into the training center, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might actually explode out of my chest. Christian was half-shifted beside me, his eyes glowing gold and ready to tear apart whatever threat had Diana sending emergency texts.
Instead, I found Diana standing there with Marcus, Connor, and about twenty pack members holding decorations.
"Surprise!" they all yelled.
I nearly collapsed against Christian. "Are you kidding me right now? I thought someone was dying!"
"Sorry," Diana said, not looking sorry at all. "But you wouldn’t have come if I’d just asked nicely."
My hands were still shaking. "Diana, I swear to the Moon Goddess—"
"We want to throw a pack celebration," Marcus interrupted, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. The head warrior was literally shuffling his feet. Marcus. The guy who stared down rogues without blinking. "For surviving everything—the attacks, Tom, all of it. But we need Alpha and Luna approval."
Christian’s arm was still around my waist, probably the only thing keeping me upright. "You couldn’t have just asked during normal hours?" I demanded, adrenaline still coursing through me.
"Where’s the fun in that?" Connor grinned, completely unrepentant.
I took several deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like Diana taught me to control Luna energy. Except right now I was using it to avoid strangling my friends.
"Fine," I finally said. "Shadow Ridge deserves a celebration. But Diana—" I pointed at her. "You are absolutely banned from sending fake emergency texts. Ever again."
"Even if—"
"Ever. Again."
Christian’s chest rumbled with laughter. "The pack has our permission. And our gratitude for taking initiative." His alpha voice carried warmth that made everyone relax. "Show us what you’re planning."
The group practically mobbed us. Melissa, a young she-wolf from the sanctuary, pulled out a notebook covered in sketches. "We want to do it this Saturday. Sunset starts; go until whenever people are ready to leave."
"We’ve got the budget worked out," Connor said, pulling up his tablet. "Mostly donations and volunteers. We’re keeping costs low but making it special."
I looked at the sketches. Banners, lights strung between trees, and long tables for food. "This is really thought out."
"We’ve been planning for two weeks," Melissa admitted. "Just waiting for the right time to ask."
"We should add warrior competitions," Christian said, studying the layout. "Let our fighters showcase their skills. Celebrate their strength."
Marcus perked up immediately. "Sparring matches, strength contests, agility courses—"
"And activities for families," I added. "Games for the kids. Maybe some pack history storytelling?"
The planning committee scribbled notes frantically.
The next three days were chaotic. Good chaos, but still chaos.
I’d never seen the pack so energized. Everyone had a job. The teenagers hung lights until the main gathering area looked like something out of a fairy tale. Warriors built competition areas. The cooking committee basically took over the packhouse kitchen.
"Sophie, taste this," someone would say every five minutes.
By Thursday, I’d tried so many dishes I’d probably gained five pounds.
Christian worked alongside the warriors, setting up sparring rings and obstacle courses. Watching him laugh and joke with pack members, sleeves rolled up and hair messy, did things to my heart.
"You’re staring," Diana said, appearing beside me.
"I’m supervising."
"Uh-huh." She handed me another schedule. "We need to coordinate the storytelling with the competitions. Can’t have both happening at once."
"How did I become the event coordinator?"
"You’re the Luna. It’s literally your job."
Fair point.
Saturday arrived with perfect weather. Cool but not cold, clear skies, just enough breeze to make the hanging lights dance.
The pack started gathering at sunset. Over two hundred people filled the space we’d transformed. Kids ran around screaming with excitement. Warriors compared notes on competition strategy. Elderly pack members settled into comfortable chairs with blankets.
I stood on the platform beside Christian, looking out at everyone, and felt my Luna bonds warm. Every single thread connecting me to pack members glowed bright.
"Ready?" Christian squeezed my hand.
"Ready."
His alpha voice carried easily. "Shadow Ridge!" Everyone quieted. "We’ve been through hell these past months. Attacks. Betrayal. Loss." He paused. "But we’re still here. Still strong. Still united."
The crowd cheered.
"Tonight, we celebrate survival. We celebrate each other. We celebrate being Shadow Ridge." Christian’s voice grew thick. "Thank you. For your loyalty. Your courage. Your strength. Especially to Marcus, for keeping us safe. Connor, for keeping us organized. Diana, for keeping us whole."
Each person he named beamed with pride.
"Shadow Ridge’s greatest strength has always been our unity. Our bonds. And no enemy—no matter how strong—can break what we’ve built together."
More cheers. I waited for them to quiet before stepping forward.
"I want to offer a Luna blessing," I said. My voice sounded steadier than I felt. "Diana taught me this. It’s a way to express gratitude and strengthen our bonds."
I closed my eyes and let my Luna energy flow. Golden light poured out of me, touching every pack member. Warmth. Peace. Belonging.
People gasped. Some cried. Little kids giggled at the tickling sensation.
When I opened my eyes, I was crying too. "I love you guys."
"We love you too, Luna!" someone shouted, and suddenly everyone was cheering again.
"Okay, okay," Christian laughed. "Let’s eat!"
The feast was insane. Every table groaned with food. I tried to sample everything, praising each cook and asking for recipes. Christian stuck to the meat dishes, nodding appreciatively at the warriors who’d handled the grilling.
"This is incredible," I told a young mother who’d made some kind of amazing pasta dish.
"Thank you, Luna. My grandmother’s recipe."
I made a mental note to get that recipe for the pack cookbook Connor was secretly compiling.
After everyone had eaten their fill, Marcus stood. His deep voice cut through the chatter. "Story time."
The warriors gathered, and Marcus launched into a tale about the first attack. How young Jamie had spotted the rogues early and raised the alarm. How Victoria had fought off three rogues single-handedly while protecting injured pack members.
Other warriors jumped in with their perspectives. The stories transformed trauma into shared history. Made the pain meaningful.
I watched young pack members listen with wide eyes, seeing their protectors as heroes. Which they were.
Then Marcus stood again, looking weirdly nervous. "I, uh, have personal news."
The crowd went silent. Marcus never shared anything personal.
He pulled out a small velvet box. "Victoria, could you come here?"
Oh my God.
