I Refuse To Be Your Luna (Flourish and Harold) novel Chapter 115

Finished

Chapter 115 Shadows In The Wine

Alpha Damian’s POV

“Absolute nonsense,” I growled, tossing the formal dinner invitation onto my desk. “I am not sitting at a table with Harold and Fina just so my father can pretend our family isn’t falling apart.”

Flourish sat across from me in my office, sipping a warm cup of tea. “Daciana was terrified, Damian. She’s trying to prevent a war between you and your brother. If we refuse to attend, Harold will use it to claim you’re abusing your Alpha authority to isolate him.”

I looked at her, my wolf softening the moment my eyes rested on her face. She looked tired, but the sapphire pendant glowed softly against her throat, reassuring me that she was safe.

“My wolf doesn’t want you anywhere near him, Flourish,” I said, leaning forward and resting my forearms on the desk. “He is erratic, humiliated, and desperate. Desperate wolves make stupid decisions.”

“I know,” she said gently, reaching across the desk to place her hand over mine. “But we have the upper hand now. You publicly claimed me, you gave me your family’s crest, and the pack elders are already taking my side on the F-Tech expansions. One formal dinner won’t change that. Let’s go, show them that we are united, and put an end to their endless political games. Even if, it’s not real.”

I stared at her hand touching mine, feeling the warm, soothing spark of our bond humming between us. “Fine. But the moment I feel even a hint of disrespect from anyone, we leave. Understood?”

“Understood,” she smiled softly.

Three days later, the formal reconciliation dinner was held at the private dining hall of the Stonehedge main estate.

The atmosphere inside the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. The long mahogany table was set with heavy silver and crystal, illuminated by dim candlelight.

My grandfather sat at the head of the table, his presence keeping an uneasy peace, while my father and mother sat on the left. Harold and Fina sat opposite them, looking like two prisoners waiting for execution.

I pulled out the chair directly beside mine for Flourish, placing my hand firmly on her lower back as she sat down.

Across the table, Harold’s eyes burned with a dark, sickening obsession as he watched my touch. Beside him, Phina looked tense, her knuckles white as she held her wine glass, while

11:36 Thu, Oct 1

Chapter 115 Shadows In The Wine

Lydia and Selene sat near the end of the table, suspiciously quiet.

“Thank you all for coming,” Grandfather began, his sharp eyes sweeping over the table. “We are here tonight to ensure that personal squabbles do not interfere with the strength of Stonehedge. Damian is the Alpha. Flourish is his chosen companion and the mind behind F- Tech. Harold, you will respect their position, or you will be stripped of your seat on the council. Is that clear?”

Harold clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles twitching violently. “Clear, Grandfather,” he gritted out, taking a heavy gulp of his dark red wine.

“Good,” Magnus said. “Now let us eat in peace.”

For the first half hour, the dinner proceeded under a tense, guarded silence. The servants moved around the table, pouring rich, aged wine and serving courses of roasted meat.

I kept a constant watch on Flourish, my acute senses analyzing every scent in the room. But as the third course was served, my wolf suddenly stirred, snapping his head up inside my mind.

A faint, nearly imperceptible scent caught my attention—a subtle, metallic odor underlying the sweet fruitiness of the rose wine being poured into Flourish’s glass.

It was Nightshade Root —a rare, potent wolf suppressant that, when mixed with high alcohol, could completely numb a wolf’s instincts, cause severe hallucinations, and leave a female completely helpless for hours.

My eyes snapped toward the end of the table. Lydia was staring down at her plate, her heart beating at an unnaturally rapid pace, while Selene was nervously fidgeting with her napkin.

The servant stepped forward, placing the freshly poured glass of wine right beside Flourish’s hand.

“A special vintage from the southern cellars, Lady Flourish,” the servant announced politely.

Flourish reached out her hand, her fingers closing around the stem of the crystal glass. “Thank you-”

Before she could lift it to her lips, my hand shot out, catching her wrist in a grip of iron.

“Damian?” Flourish asked, turning to me in confusion.

The entire table went dead silent.

“Do not drink that,” I said, my voice dropping into a register so cold and terrifying that the flames on the candles flickered and died down.

Ragnar frowned. “Damian, what are you doing? It’s just wine.”

11:36 Thu, Oct 1

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