The logs covered six months of Southern Pack council activity, every meeting, every internal decision, every piece of intelligence that had moved through official channels, spread across the desk in precise order as Damon placed the last file down at seven in the morning.
Raphael stood at the head of the table with his hands braced on the surface, his eyes moving through the records without speaking, his jaw set hard enough that the line of it was visible from across the room.
Nora on the other hand stood to his left, close enough that their arms nearly touched over the files, it was close enough that when she reached for one record her sleeve brushed his, neither of them moving apart.
She pulled the first cross-reference sheet toward her, the dates down the left column matching per
