Chapter 145

The cleanup and rebuilding of Blood Moon territory should've been straightforward. Check what's broken. Fix what matters most. Figure out what we need. Keep going. But nothing felt straightforward when Raymond and I couldn't agree on our territory's future.

Three days after the feast, we had our first real fight.

"We're building those walls higher this time," Raymond said, stabbing his finger at the blueprints scattered across our meeting table. "Thicker stone, better watchtowers, guards who can actually see what's coming."

I studied the proposals with growing unease. The designs showed walls that would tower over the previous barriers, creating an imposing fortress that would change the entire character of our territory.

"This'll make us look like we're expecting war," I said. "Is that what we want everyone thinking?"

"Maybe that's exactly what they need to think," Raymond shot back, using that Alpha tone that meant the discussion was over. "We've just survived a coordinated attack that nearly destroyed us. Our people need to feel safe."

"Our people need to feel connected to the broader werewolf community," I countered, standing to better examine the architectural drawings. "Build walls like that, and everyone'll think we don't trust anybody."

I watched Raymond's jaw clench. Great. He thought I was being stupid about politics again. "Trust? After what we've just been through? Aurora, trust is a luxury we can't afford right now."

The fundamental difference in our worldviews was becoming impossible to ignore. Raymond saw security through isolation and strength while I believed it came through cooperation and alliance-building.

"What we actually need is friends," I said, fighting to keep the edge out of my voice. "Share information. Watch each other's backs. Talk before things get nasty."

"Diplomacy didn't stop Giana from nearly destroying us," Raymond pointed out with logic that made my argument seem idealistic.

"Neither did our previous defenses," I shot back. "She infiltrated us through manipulation, not military force. Higher walls wouldn't have made any difference against her methods."

Our council members shifted in their seats like kids watching their parents fight. Elder Morrison coughed awkwardly. Everyone else suddenly found their paperwork fascinating.

So much for presenting a united front.

Raymond kept grabbing my hand during the meeting. A sweet gesture, but every time he touched me, I couldn’t help but want to yank away. My whole body just... recoiled.

Hard to look like a team when I'm practically flinching every time he tries to hold my hand.

"Maybe we could do both?" Elder Morrison jumped in when the silence got painfully long. "Some defensive improvements along with increased diplomatic outreach?"

Sounded good in theory. In practice? We fought about every damn detail. He wanted diplomatic efforts to be minimal, focused only on intelligence gathering. I wanted genuine relationship-building that addressed underlying causes of conflict.

"Why throw away what's always worked for some new experiment?" Raymond argued. "We shouldn't abandon proven methods for untested innovations."

"Those same traditions let Giana waltz right in and nearly destroy us," I snapped. "Maybe some old ways need to die."

The debate continued for another hour with neither of us yielding ground. Raymond wanted bigger weapons. I wanted better allies.

Two hours later? We'd accomplished absolutely nothing except scheduling another meeting to argue more. Our advisors left looking worried, probably wondering if we'd ever agree on anything.

"Aurora," Raymond said once everyone cleared out, "this isn't working."

"No kidding," I said, shoving papers into a messy pile. "But teamwork doesn't mean I become your personal yes-woman."

"I'm not asking you to be a puppet. But fighting in front of everyone makes us both look weak."

I looked at him—really looked. Same face I'd known since childhood, but he felt like a complete stranger. "So I fake it? Smile and nod when you make decisions that I disagree with?"

"I'm asking you to trust me," Raymond said, sounding tired and frustrated and desperate all at once. "I'm the Alpha here. These decisions are ultimately my responsibility."

And there it was. The fundamental assumption that his authority superseded my opinions, that being Luna meant supporting rather than truly partnering in leadership decisions.

"Being Luna doesn't make me your personal approval machine," I said.

Raymond's face changed when he heard himself. "That came out wrong. I do want your opinion, Aurora. But when we can't agree, we need to figure out how to look like we're on the same team."

He was trying. I had to give him that. But the underlying dynamic remained unchanged—he made the final decisions and I was expected to adapt my positions to support his.

The pattern continued over the following days. Every planning session became a battleground where our different philosophies clashed.

During a trade meeting, Raymond favored traditional partners offering proven stability. I pushed for new trading partners. Spread the risk around.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it," Raymond asked when I suggested renegotiating terms with our oldest trading partners.

"Just because something works doesn't mean it's the best we can do," I said. "I have respect for the old ways, but we're missing chances because we're too scared to try anything new."

People started noticing we weren't exactly a happy couple. Worried looks during pack meetings. Conversations that died the moment I walked up.

Our rebuilding project—supposed to show how strong we were after everything—ground to a halt because Raymond and I couldn't agree on anything.

Despite everything, that night, Raymond surprised with a romantic dinner. Candles everywhere, fresh flowers, all my favorite dishes from the kitchen.

"This is really nice," I said, and I meant it, even with everything else going wrong between us.

"Thought we could use a break from all the arguing," he said, pulling out my chair like a proper gentleman. "Sometimes I think we forget how to just... exist together without talking about pack business."

We kept dinner conversation safe. Pack gossip, old memories, whether the harvest would be good this year. Raymond asked about my day. Shared funny stories from his meetings.

Even when he tried to be affectionate, it felt awkward. He'd reach over to hold my hand, and I'd let him, but it was like shaking hands with a business associate.

"Aurora," he said quietly as we finished dessert, "are you happy?"

The question blindsided me. Not because he asked—because I couldn't tell him the truth without breaking his heart.

"I'm... figuring things out," I said, picking each word carefully like I was walking through a minefield. "So much has happened. I'm still trying to make sense of it all."

His thumb brushed over my knuckles, trying to comfort me. "I know it'll take time. But we’ll figure things out. Together."

His certainty that we could build something real out of nothing was sweet and devastating at the same time. He actually thought we could force love to grow where only obligation had lived.

Wanting something badly enough doesn't make it real.

He walked me to my door and kissed my cheek—polite, respectful, careful. I sat on my bed afterward, staring at myself in the mirror. The woman staring back looked perfectly put-together. Every inch the ideal Luna.

Inside, I was drowning.

Next morning, same story. Another meeting, another fight, another reminder that Raymond and I just didn't work together—in leadership or anything else.

We couldn't agree on anything, and our constant fighting was hurting everyone who counted on Blood Moon being strong. Pack members needed clear direction for rebuilding efforts, but we couldn't provide it while we remained locked in constant disagreement.

Something had to change.