The Council chambers smelled of polished stone and old secrets. The great hall was carved from marble so pale it reflected torchlight like ice, its pillars soaring high enough to make even Alphas feel small. But Zaria refused to feel small.
She strode across the floor, each step deliberate, the whisper of her cloak trailing like a warning. Damian flanked her right, calm as shadow. Kael walked on her left, jaw clenched so tightly she feared his teeth might crack. Both were Alpha, both commanded respect but all eyes in the chamber locked on her.
Twelve seats ringed the dais, each carved from wolfstone, each occupied by one of the most powerful leaders of their age. Elders, Alphas, strategists men and women who claimed to guide the packs with wisdom but guarded their own thrones with sharpe
