Kaelen
By the time the council had gathered, the moon was rising pale and watchful through the great hall’s high windows, casting silver slashes across the stone floor. Kaelen stood at the head of the long, curved obsidian table, his fingers resting lightly on the back of the Alpha’s chair.
He didn’t sit. He always had to be the last one standing.
Lucia entered behind him, her scent mercifully clearer, but Ragnar’s presence still lingered like smoke after a fire.
Kaelen met her eyes with a smile and a nod, letting the mutters from the elders roll off him like rain. His claim had been made. Let them test it.
“Stand beside Serena and Anya,” he murmured. “And remember what I said.”
She gave him a small, sly wink but obeyed without question, her petite form slipping between the chairs
