Grant
Silver Pine feels tense the moment we step inside the packhouse.
Not the usual post-council tension—this is sharper. Angrier. Like the walls themselves know something slipped out of our control.
“You embarrassed us,” my father snaps the second the office door shuts behind us. “You let Ronan Ashwood turn the Council against you.”
I scoff. “They were already leaning his way. Don’t pretend this was just about optics.”
“It was about preparation,” he fires back. “You were supposed to keep her contained.”
“I did,” I growl. “For years. She waited. She trusted me. I made sure she never realized how much leverage she had.”
“And yet she walked,” Victor says coldly. “And worse—she bonded.”
The word still burns.
“She’s still mine,” I snap. “That bond only happened because Ashwood interf
