The last thing to check off his to-do list, and the thing he's been dreading most, is deciding which one of his Grave Shadow alphas are worthy enough to accompany him to Blood Moon. Today, they're gathered here in the dining hall for recruitment.

Iron gray walls stretch out as far as they can reach, the vast space floating in between occupied with a variety of metal contraptions—cogwheels, bolts, and wrenches welded together into one big, fat, ugly ass cluster. Once upon a time, the previous leader of Grave Shadow, Elijah Grimshaw, had proudly claimed it to be 'abstract art'.

Clearly a fatal design flaw, but surprisingly, not enough of a priority for Jax to fix. Besides, leaving one relic of the past alive won't change anything, not when he's thoroughly erased everything else that reminds the people of Elijah's rule.

The only reason he likes to keep this hideous thing up there is to symbolize who he used to be and how far he's come. Three years ago, he'd been nothing. Three years later, he's everything.

Such were the benefits of The Trials.

Thankfully, Elijah Grimshaw—ever the melodramatic bastard—was already six feet under by the time Jax took over, with a big, fat, ugly ass headstone to boot. Even in death, he needed to make a big deal out of things; he had his own special section carved out within their sacred graveyard and all, draped in black silks and red roses brought by elderly pack members.

What a fucking honor.

Overhead, a dome-shaped roof spans out from the cursed decor that Jax had been glaring at earlier. Shiny steel tiles spiral out from the center, gleaming alongside beams of fluorescent lights so sharp that they hurt to stare at. Matching steel chairs and tables, chilling to the touch and rigid in structure, line up across a row of gigantic glass panes.

Just like how Cyrus has Grace and his two other alphas—Matt and Bryan, Jax vaguely recalls—he has to choose too. This is hard because outside of Zeke, who's already packing for the trip in his room, he doesn't trust any of his team. They may be his comrades, but they are far from familiar.

They're beneath him, not with him. This is what happens when he's left with ex-Elijah Grimshaw lackeys to rule over: they become hard to break. Hard to control.

But break them he has. Control them? He sure fucking does. They had been reluctant with the changes at first, especially when said changes came in the form of, as they used to describe Jax, 'a subpar alpha born from a beta bitch'.

Now, nothing stops Jax. Nothing except for Luna herself.

While Cyrus chatters with Matt and Bryan, wasting his time away with pointless small talk and friendly antics, Jax hits his vape one last time before ordering for all of his alphas to rise for the occasion.

Let's get this over with.

"Stand," he commands roughly, smoke drifting from his frown.

Chair legs scrape against the dark marble floor as they put themselves on display. He can feel the weight of Cyrus's curious stare landing on him. On cue, they file in an orderly line. They are to lower their gazes as he inspects them, one by one. He's placed emphasis on no direct eye contact.

Jax first reaches out to Luke, the closest alpha in sight.

He remembered when Luke would dump trays of steaming mashed potatoes and cold, sticky juice atop his head, surprising him with fun little 'food fights'. He recalled the abrupt thud of his head being bashed into a table in this very same dining hall, squirming and snarling underneath Luke's unrelenting grip.

Look at Luke now. Just a few inches shy of reaching Jax's height, with stiff shoulders and wide eyes. His throat bobs with a dry swallow, a nervous tick, and his hands are clenched into tight fists.

Jax clicks his tongue, visible distaste echoing from him, before moving on to the next alpha.

Esther is up. Her gaze is slanted down, studying the marble tiles beneath them. Her asymmetrical bangs are sprawled out sloppily across her forehead.

He remembered when Esther once scalded his shoulder with her curling iron. Not once, not twice, but five times—each mark more painful than the last. He recalled the smell of burnt flesh stinging his nose as he shredded his vocal cords with grating screams. The sound of her gleeful cackles rang in the air while he struggled against her bulky arm muscles.

Look at Esther now. Weaker in every way since Jax had stacked up on strength training years ago. She will never be able to pin him underneath her again—not when he's the top alpha. Not unless she wants a brutal death wish that he'd be more than glad to give her.

Lastly, and most importantly, there's Adrian.

He appears worn around the edges, with stubble scattering across his jawline and gray hairs popping out more than usual from his shaggy head, yet he's still standing firm with obedience as he avoids eye contact. Apathy is dull in his downturned stare.

Suddenly, Jax yanks him by his unruly ponytail, jerking his head up just because he can. He threatens to tear the hair off his scalp. In response, a tight wince scrunches Adrian's face, his eyes squeezing shut.

Adrian Grimshaw.

Son of Elijah Grimshaw.

Previously destined for leadership like his father, but Jax had ripped the crown away from him at the last second during The Trials.

Now, the Grimshaw bloodline bows to Jax. Adrian loyally executes every order that's ever been barked at him. Hard to believe that he used to be the ringleader behind all his nightmares.

He remembered the after school beatings. Every punch, every kick, every swing from Adrian's calloused hands as he reminded Jax, over and over again, that this was what happened to mistakes.

"You'll never be like one of us," Adrian spat out, in that arrogant way he used to so boldly display. Wide teeth were bared out in an uncanny grin that reached from ear to ear. "You're not a real alpha."

Jax recalled whenever Adrian used to stuff razor blades inside of his locker, hoping that some would cut his hands and feet as they fell out. He recalled whenever Adrian would dunk his head into nearby trash cans and kick his knees out before slamming him into walls and sinks. At one point, Adrian even broke Jax's sense of smell after a loud collision with a restroom mirror, for he had slammed Jax's face so hard into his own reflection that everything shattered—including the bone in his nose.

And as much as Jax would never admit it aloud, maybe Adrian's been right all along. It's true that he will never be like them.

Not because he's born different. Not because his dad's a beta. Not because he used to be 'the runt' among his fellow alphas while growing up.

But because they are the real mistakes. In name, they're still his comrades. His pack members—his to break, his to control, his to suffocate with order after order. Command after command.

However, he can't make a decision between them. Difficult to sort out treasure from trash, after all... so he won't.

Instead, he promptly lets Adrian go and steps back, still feeling the heavy surprise of Cyrus's wide-eyed gaze latched onto him, and tells everyone of the decisions he's already confident in instead.

"Zeke is coming with me," he announces. "And Lee's in charge of all pack-related affairs while I'm away. I only need two of you."

Stunned silence implodes within all his alphas as they process not only Zeke, their beta second-in-command, accompanying Jax, but also Lee, their omega priest of Luna, temporarily taking over an entire werewolf pack.

An omega.

He'd rather confide in Lee, an omega, than any of them with his work. Honestly, Adrian should be proud that his boyfriend is being given such an honorable position, even if the role should've gone to him. The role of second-in-command technically should've gone to him too, as he had ranked second during The Trials, but obviously Jax scouted Zeke out for the job instead.

Finally, Cyrus speaks up, interrupting with unwarranted dialogue, as he exclaims, "You're not– you're not taking your priest with you? You're letting him be in charge of your own pack while you're away?"

Disbelief resonates from his tone, matching the shock that the other Grave Shadow alphas are wearing.

An omega leading a pack, even if temporarily—it's completely and utterly unorthodox, never to be heard in their history before. Everyone would claim that's insane, and even Lee will most certainly cry out of anxiety once he finds out too.

But he trusts Zeke. And he trusts Lee. He can't trust anyone else.

"We're in a temporary truce, aren't we?" Jax shrugs. "I'll rely on your little girlfriend to heal me if needed."

Cyrus's jaw drops at that, openly gaping at those words. Startled gibberish sputters from him, but Jax quickly cuts in with another proposition.

"I'll also rely on you to pick out which of my alphas should come with me. I can't pick two, so pick them out for me."

Cyrus looks like he's gonna collapse. "You want me to what?" Wildly, he gestures to the line of Grave Shadow alphas, his hands flailing about. "You want me to pick?"

"Sure. I don't care," Jax says nonchalantly. "We're heading to Blood Moon anyways. Your rule, your way, right?"

"I don't– I don't even know them."

"Doesn't matter. The choice is all yours."

With that being finalized, Jax returns to the chair he'd been seated on earlier and leans back, watching with crossed arms as Cyrus frantically flicks his gaze back and forth, panicked switches from Jax to his line of alphas.

Even Matt and Bryan, as reserved as they've been with anyone outside of Cyrus, are staring at Jax in alarm from their corner of the dining hall.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

After several more minutes of flustered indecision, Cyrus chose Adrian and Esther to accompany Jax to Blood Moon.

"So much for being the great leader of Grave Shadow," Cyrus jabs, a smirk curling up his lips. "I had to pick out your own alphas for you."

Jax simply shoots him a deadpan glare in response. Then, because there are more important matters to tend to, he tells him, "There's one more thing that I need you to decide."

"Even more choices to make on your behalf?" Cyrus cocks his brow up. "Huh... I'm flattered."

Genuinely, Jax doesn't know if that last part is meant to be sarcastic or not. Perhaps a bit of both since Cyrus is an idiot.

He rolls his eyes anyways. "Let's meet with Zeke. He needs your help with something."