The council hall erupted into chaos. The rogues stormed through the shattered doors, their howls blending with the clashing of steel and the shouts of alarmed warriors. The gathered alphas and their guards sprang into action, forming defensive circles, their instincts honed by years of battle. But there was no unity in their movements, no shared front against the enemy. Suspicion clouded the air like thick smoke, each pack wary of the others, their alliances fragile at best.
Layla’s father, Alpha Gideon Blackthorne, stood at the center of it all, his sharp gaze sweeping over the turmoil with eerie calculation. He barked orders to his enforcers, their movements practiced and precise as they cut down any rogue foolish enough to approach. Yet something in his posture made Layla’s stomach tur
