The Alpha King's Contracted Luna (Ava and Grayson) novel Chapter 179

Chapter 179 

Chapter 179 

-Grayson’s POV- 

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I hadn’t given it much thought before. For years, I had built my reputation on fear, a reputation so formidable that the mere idea of betrayal seemed laughable. No one would dare go against me–not if they valued their life. Or so I thought. But the moment the screen of my phone went black, the realization hit me like a blade to the gut. 

Someone had tampered with it. 

Someone on the inside. 

It was all clear now. The way the message from the person behind the killings had appeared at the estate’s entrance without anyone seeing them. The way they had slipped past the tight security I had spent years perfecting. There was no doubt in my mind anymore. Whoever was responsible wasn’t just bold–they had help. And that help was coming from within. 

I wasn’t naïve enough to think I’d uncover the mole during this meeting. That would have been too easy. No, this was about sending a message—to the traitor, to the pack, to anyone foolish enough to think they could challenge me. They needed to remember who I was. And why no one dared cross me. 

The whispers in the hall were rising, filling the grand space with a nervous energy. I allowed it for a moment, letting them murmur their theories, their doubts. Fear was a powerful tool, and silence commanded respect, but sometimes you needed to let people unravel before reeling them back in. 

My gaze swept across the room and landed briefly on Ava. She was seated to my right, her expression carefully blank, though the slight crease in her brow betrayed her annoyance. She was irritated, no doubt because I hadn’t informed her of my plans. 

I raised my hand, and the whispers died instantly. The room fell silent, the kind of silence that pressed against the skin, heavy and oppressive. When I spoke, my voice was calm, even, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath it. 

“As some of you may have heard, there was a shooting recently,” began, my eyes scanning the faces in the room. “I was the target, and yes, I was shot.” 

The collective intake of breath was audible, followed by a ripple of murmurs. I didn’t stop to address the shock or concern, “The person responsible is the same individual–or group–behind the killings. They’ve made it clear they want my throne. They’re trying to destabilize us, to weaken us from the inside.” 

I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. The room had gone completely still, the silence now tinged with unease. “And I’ll admit something surprising to all of you,” I continued, my tone dropping slightly, “I don’t have the answers. I don’t know who’s responsible. And I don’t yet know how I’m going to stop them.” 

The silence stretched, heavy and almost unbearable. It wasn’t often Ladmitted vulnerability–not to my pack, not to anyone, But there was power in honesty, in showing that I wasn’t invincible but still standing, still fighting. 

“What I do know,” I said, my voice growing stronger, “is that the throne has been in my family for centuries. And I have no intention of losing it.” 

A flicker of something passed through the crowd–relief, perhap, or renewed determination. 

“My pack will not suffer because of this war. I will ensure that. But make no mistake–this isn’t just my battle. It’s ours. Whoever is responsible isn’t just coming for me. They’re coming for all of us, for everything we’ve built, for everything 

10:30/ Thu, Jan 30 B 

Chapter 179 

we’ve fought to protect.” 

“From this moment forward,” I continued, “things are going to change. We will tighten security. No one comes or goes without my knowledge. Every member of this pack will be accounted for. There will be no room for error, no room for weakness.” 

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I let my words hang in the air before delivering the final blow. “And as of today, I am invoking a curfew. No one leaves their homes after sundown without my express permission.” 

The announcement caused an immediate ripple of reactions. The room erupted into a low hum of discontent, whispers and murmurs filling the space once more. The higher ranks exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement, others frowning in clear displeasure. 

“I am not done speaking!” My voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. The murmurs died instantly, and all eyes turned back to me. 

“The curfew is not up for debate,” I said firmly. “It is a measure to protect you, to ensure that we leave no room for the enemy to exploit. If you have questions, ask them now. But do not mistake this for an invitation to challenge my authority.” 

A man from one of the middle ranks stood hesitantly, clearing his throat. “Your Highness,” he began, his voice trembling slightly, “with all due respect, don’t you think a curfew might create more fear among the pack? People might think we’re weak if we’re hiding behind closed doors.” 

I fixed him with a cold stare, and he visibly flinched. “Weakness,” I said slowly, “is allowing the enemy to move freely while we do nothing. Strength is taking control of the situation before it spirals further out of hand. Do you disagree?” 

“N–no, Your Highness,” he stammered, quickly sitting back down 

Another voice piped up, this time from the back of the room. “And what about our jobs? Some of us work at night. Will exceptions be made?” 

“Exceptions will be granted on a case–by–case basis,” I replied evenly. “Anyone requiring clearance will come directly to me. If your reason is valid, you’ll receive permission. If not, you’ll stay home. It’s as simple as that.” 

The room fell silent once more, the tension thick but contained. 

I leaned forward slightly, my gaze sweeping over the crowd. “Let me be clear. This curfew is not a punishment. It’s a test. A test of your loyalty, of your trust in me. I expect compliance, not rebellion. And if anyone thinks they’re above the rules, they’ll find out very quickly that they’re not.” 

Ava shifted slightly in her seat beside me, her expression unreadable. I could feel her disapproval simmering beneath the surface, but she said nothing. She understood, as I did, that this wasn’t about being liked. It was about being respected. Feared, if necessary. 

“Now,” I said, straightening, “if there are no more questions, we move on.” 

The room remained silent, the atmosphere heavy with unspoke thoughts. 

“Like I said before, I continued, my voice cold and commanding “no one is leaving until I find out who it is. But let us all be realistic. Do you really think I can find out who the mole is?“/ 

A tense silence followed. Then, a voice from the back broke the quiet.