Changeling (Completed)

Day Forty-Five

Hi everyone! 

I added this to my journal so that you can all know how my story ends. It's day... I'm not sure, actually, but the days I've written about are seared into my memory. Day Forty-Five and Forty-Six. Awesome.

Love,

Innie

Day Forty-Five - Fifteen Days Past My Expiration Date

I rub my hands down the sides of my pants. All of the elders are silently reading my journal. Not a single one of them has broken out in a smile or a sigh or rolled their eyes, nothing. They are, all eight of them, just like expressionless stone.

Ronson has read it, already. He laughed in several parts and once he stood up and spanked me (gently because I'm 'recovering' *insert eye roll here). I'm fairly certain that it was the sex-with-Benji scene that brought on my punishment.

"This can't be true," one elder finally scoffs, tossing the journal aside with a sneer. I frown at the discarded ream of paper. I had wanted to bind the printouts together with some pretty ribbon and maybe even make up some nice covers, but Ronson insisted on keeping it professional. Something about not wanting to make the Council think that I'm mocking them (even if I am).

"It is true," I tell them, despite Ronson's motions at me to quiet down.

"All I see here is a confession that she meant to kill Damien," another man intones darkly. I peek at him. I think he's the southern alpha, Alpha Nick, Shana's cousin.

"She believes that Damien murdered her," another elder defends me, sort of. "Besides, how do we punish an omega?"

"Why are we wasting time on this when RustClaw is at our borders?" another snarls.

"Their army isn't here," the first elder scoffs again. "They want their Luna-Matron back."

An argument breaks out. Some of them want to send the Luna-Matron back with her mate. Others want her sent back alone, keeping her mate here as a hostage. Still, others want them both to remain here.

Ronson cooly interrupts them. "Ingrid is not a threat to the Council. She has no links to RustClaw or the witches."

An elder snickers. "She seems to only be a threat to your sanity, Alpha."

They all laugh, and I expect Ronson to grow angry with them. Instead, he turns to me with a dark look. "I know," he snaps, glaring at me. Hey! Why at me? He's already read the journal, several times, in fact. "And because of that, I enact my right to punish her accordingly."

The Council breaks out into arguing again, drowning out my protests. "Enough!" Ronson snarls. "I won't waste any more of my time on an omega when we have more important things to worry about."

"What about my cousin?" Alpha Nick sneers. "Just kill the little slut, Claim Shana, and we will have our alliance!"

"We have the alliance anyway, Nick," Ronson sneers. "My wolves have been gathered at the borders for over a year, now. RustClaw is here. It's too late to make peace with them. We are at war. If you continue to hold your wolves back, then we will all be slaughtered! Your foolish mistake of taking the Luna-Matron prisoner has caused this!"

Holy cow balls. What is happening? Does Ronson have an army? He told me that the southern pack was bigger than his. Was that a lie? What is going on here?

"Your army can't take on RustClaw alone," Alpha Nick practically howls.

"I will withdraw them from the field," Ronson thunders.