Charles
I sit back in the high-backed chair of the meeting hall, staring up at the dark wooden beams of the ceiling. The hall is separate from the main building, quiet. It smells faintly of old wood and candle wax, and the faint echo of my boots on the polished floor reminds me how serious these meetings always feel. Eric is standing silently beside me, alert, silent, always ready.
The three elders are seated on their chairs. Vance, always polished, always acting like he’s the smartest man in the room. Harrow, fidgety, muttering under his breath, all rings and impatience. And Luthor, calm, older, silver hair, eyes sharp enough.
Vance clears his throat. “Alpha Charles, it’s come to our attention you’ve… found your mate.” His gaze slides over me, probing, judging. “Why haven’t you inform
