Nolan POV
The ballroom of Frost Hollow’s great hall gleamed in the chandelier light.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their light reflecting off the ice-carved pillars that lined the walls. The gathered Alphas—some young and restless, others gray-haired and calculating—moved through the room like actors across a stage. Their laughter was polite. Their smiles were weapons.
I stood near the far wall, the silver crest of the Silver Fang Pack gleaming faintly against my dark suit. I hated these events—the pretense, the politics—but appearances mattered.
Especially now.
The summit for the throne selection had drawn nearly every Alpha within a thousand miles.
Each one of them vying, in their own way, for power, for influence, for the goddess’s favor.
I wasn’t here to
