SLOANE
Helena Sinclair had never liked me.
That truth sat heavy in my chest as I followed her down the wide marble steps of the Aragon pack courthouse. Her heels clicked sharp and fast, like she wanted the sound to cut into me. The cold air bit at my face, and Christmas decorations hung along the iron rails—pine garlands, red ribbons, white lights that blinked too cheerfully for how tense I felt inside.
She hadn’t even asked me properly.
She had told Mr. Delgado that I would follow her to her next hearing.
Like I was an assistant. Or worse, a shadow.
At first, my instinct had been to fight it. To say no. To remind her—and everyone else—that I was not beneath her. That I was a Sinclair too, even if I was half human and she never let me forget it.
But then I paused.
Aragon pack law w
