The gavel had barely cooled when the hall started breathing again. Elders closed folders. Guards pretended not to listen. Paper made the sounds paper makes when it thinks it has decided something.
Kevin touched my elbow. “Out the south door," he said. “Fewer eyes."
We made it ten steps before a shadow slid across the tiles. Jones stepped out from a side passage like he'd been leaning there, collecting anger into something he could carry publicly.
“Isabella," he said.
“Alpha," I answered, because it fit like salt.
He winced; then the command shut it down. “A word."
Miriam's voice floated from the chamber, cool and clerical. “Forty-eight hours means forty-eight hours, Alpha."
“I'm speaking to my wife," he called back without turning, then lowered his voice. “Please."
Kevin moved a ha
