The council hall hadn't changed.
Same carved wood beams blackened with soot from ancient fires. Same stone dais in the center, smoothed by generations of judgment. The same heavy air that forced your lungs to work harder was here, as if truth itself had weight.
This time, though, I wasn't watching someone else beg for a spot on the periphery.
This time, I was walking in beside the Alpha of Thorn Pack.
And our son.
Rowan’s hand was small but warm in mine, swinging slightly as we stepped through the arched threshold. He didn’t speak, but his shoulders squared like he understood the gravity of what lay ahead. His other hand clutched a threadbare wolf plush he hadn’t let go of since waking.
Jace walked on his other side, tall and unshaken, though I could feel the storm boiling under his
