Two days later. The Silver Moon territory. The Elders' Council Chamber.
Torches flickered along the circular stone walls, casting long shadows across the room.
Seven Elders sat on a raised dais. Damian occupied the central throne.
Victoria stood in the center of the hall, her wrists bound in moonstone cuffs specifically forged to suppress a wolf's shifting ability.
The chain of evidence had been pieced together in less than forty-eight hours.
Elliot had provided the surviving records from Shatter Creek—the black-market source of the wolfsbane aphrodisiac, the digital trail of my altered medical records, and the payment logs for the rogue mercenaries hired to hunt down a fleeing Omega five years ago.
Hunt down.
That record was pulled straight from Victoria's private safe.
She hadn't
