CANDICE.
They were already waiting when we reached the bottom of the stairs.
Six Wolf Council investigators in their stiff grey uniforms had completely taken over the main briefing room, seated around the long table like they had been there for hours. At the head sat the senior arbitrator — a tall, severe woman in her sixties with silver hair pulled back so tightly it looked painful. Her eyes were sharp, world-weary, and completely unimpressed by anything she was about to hear.
Arbitrator Voss.
I sat down first. Killian lowered himself into the chair beside me, close enough that our arms brushed. The contact should have been comforting. Instead it only made my stomach twist harder.
Claude stood against the far wall, arms folded, face locked into that careful neutral mask he wore when
