At the very center of the White Fangs Pack, the large stone chamber throbbed with tension of hard truths. Fire from great torches that stretched upwards danced on walls, casting dancing shadows on the grim faces of the council. The thick table, constructed from blackened oak, loomed like a pillar of judgment in the very center of the chamber.
Alpha King Stephen occupied the head of it, every inch the dominant leader he had ever been. But tonight, his demeanor was frayed—his eyes darkened, jaw clenched, heart trapped in a quiet tempest.
"Alpha Stephen," started Alpha Marcus, the older one whose voice tended to ring with the knowledge of ages, "three years now since Luna Lisa died. The pack stays true, but they are lost without a queen. It is time to make a new Luna."
Stephen did not resp
