Chapter 143
Finally, we arrived at the grand gates of the Iron Claw Pack.
Two members bowed slightly as they opened the intricately carved gates for us.Beyond, the garden unfolded like something out of a dream. Lanterns glimmered among the trees, their soft light casting a golden hue over everything.
White, green, and gold fabric draped gracefully overhead, fluttering gently in the evening breeze.
The scent of fresh flowers mingled with the crisp night air.
Ethan guided me towards the center of the gathering, where the crowd parted as if rehearsed.
Every gaze turned to me, some warm with welcome, others curious.
I felt a mixture of nerves and anticipation as I walked through the rows of pack members.
And then, I saw him.
Lirian stood in the middle of the garden, his posture commanding yet relaxed, his tailored suit emphasizing his broad shoulders and regal bearing.
The weight of leadership already seemed to rest on him, but his expression softened the moment his
eyes met mine.
The ceremony began, steeped in tradition and reverence.
The pack elders stood in a semi–circle around Lirian, each holding a symbolic item that represented strength, wisdom, and unity.
The eldest among them stepped forward, a weathered hand gripping a ceremonial blade.
“Today, we witness the rise of a new Alpha,” the elder proclaimed, his voice deep and steady. “Lirian, son of Iron Claw, step forward to claim your place as leader.”
Lirian approached, his movements deliberate and graceful. He knelt before the elders, bowing his head in respect.
The elder took the blade and lightly touched it to Lirian’s left shoulder, then his right, murmuring words in the old tongue that I couldn’t quite understand.
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Do you vow to lead with strength, to protect with honor, and to guide with wisdom?” the elder
asked.
“I do,” Lirian replied, his voice unwavering.
The elder handed him a medallion, a symbol of his authority, and placed it around his neck. The crowd erupted in cheers as Liria rose, now officially the Alpha of the Iron Claw Pack.
I clapped enthusiastically, pride swelling in my chest. He had worked so hard for this moment, and seeing him finally step into the role he was destined for was nothing short of inspiring.
But just as I was about to make my way towards him to offer my congratulations, Lirian turned and walked straight toward me. The crowd seemed to hold its breath as he approached, his expression
mreadable yet intent.
“Lirian?” I began, but my words faltered as he dropped to one knee in front of me.
The world seemed to still. My heart raced as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet
box.
“Sophia,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion, “from the moment you walked into my life, you changed everything. You challenged me, supported me, and made me a better man. Today, I stand here not just as an Alpha but as someone who cannot imagine leading this pack–or my
fe–without you by my side.”
He opened the box to reveal a stunning ring, a delicate combination of diamonds and emeralds that sparkled under the lantern light.
For a moment, I was too stunned to speak.
The cheers and murmurs of the crowd faded into the background as I stared at him, my mind replaying every moment that had led us to this.
“Will you marry me?”
“I do,” I answered clearly, my voice steady but carrying the weight of the moment. My heart thumped heavily in my chest as the ritual began.
The weight of those two words hit me like a wave, but I didn’t falter. My voice was clear, steady,
arrying all the conviction I felt deep in my heart.
Across from me, Lirian stood still, his piercing eyes locked on mine. For a moment, his stoic mask slipped, and I caught a glimpse of something raw, almost vulnerable, in his expression.
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It was subtle–a flicker of surprise, maybe even pride–but it was there, and it made my chest tighten.
When I reached out to clasp his hand, I noticed a slight tremor in his fingers. Lirian, who was always so composed, so in control, seemed affected by my words.
That realization sent a warmth rushing through me, mingling with the heat of the blood we had just let drip into the chalice. His hand, rough and calloused, engulfed mine, and I felt the pulse of his steady strength.
“You meant that,” he said quietly, his deep voice softer than I had ever heard it before. It was so low I almost thought I imagined it, but the almost thought I imagined it, but the
tensity in his gaze left no doubt.
He wasn’t questioning me; he was acknowledging something–my resolve, my choice, maybe even the bond forming between us.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding, but I didn’t break eye contact. “I did,” I replied, just as softly.
so that only he could hear.
