ALEXANDER
The conference room reeks of posturing and barely concealed aggression.
I’ve been sitting here for three hours, listening to Alpha Cedric drone on about border infractions that may or may not have actually happened, and every minute that passes makes my wolf more restless.
Something feels off.
Something I can’t quite place my finger on.
And I’ve felt this way since I left this morning.
Cedric leans back in his chair, fingers steepled, his expression carefully neutral. “So you see, Alpha Alexander, these incursions—however minor—cannot be ignored. My pack deserves assurances.”
“And you’ll have them,” I say, keeping my voice level even though my patience ran out an hour ago. “I’ll personally review the patrol schedules along our shared border. If any of my wolves crossed the
