The full pack gathered at seven in the morning.
Three hundred and forty-seven wolves filled the central yard and the walkways above it and the steps of every building facing the center, and the morning was cold and clear and everyone was quiet before Damien even stepped forward. Mira stood to his left — Cord to his right, Rena a step behind her — and looked out at the assembled pack and felt the weight of three hundred and forty-seven sets of eyes and did not flinch.
She was done flinching.
Damien stepped forward.
He didn't raise his voice. He never needed to. The yard was already quiet enough that everyone could hear him speak at a conversational register, which was itself a kind of power — the power of a person who had never once needed volume to command attention.
"You know who she
