CIARA
The tension in the ballroom was so thick it felt like sand in my throat. Every eye followed us as Hayes steered me toward the long banquet table at the center of the hall. His hand remained wrapped securely around my waist, his fingers digging into my hip bone through the velvet green fabric, a constant, bruising reminder of who held the leash tonight.
Marcus had stepped back, but the rest of the alliance wasn’t backing down so easily. High-ranking alphas from four different territories sat along the perimeter, their scents clashing in a suffocating mix of burnt gunpowder, stale alcohol, and raw dominance.
"Alpha Hayes," a smooth, calculating voice called from the head of the table.
It was Alpha Raymond of the Bloodmoon pack—our host for the evening. He sat back in his heavy leat
