Sebastian's POV
River found me in the training wing at noon.
He did not knock. He never did. He stood in the doorway of the equipment room and watched me wrap my hands for the bag until I acknowledged him, which was the rhythm we had operated on for twelve years.
You sent for me, he said.
I did.
I had done it quietly. A message passed through a junior wolf who answered to me directly and only to me, routed past Kael's sight lines, which took twice the effort it should have and which told me something about how far into the structure this situation had already grown.
River was forty-three in human years. He had been my father's wolf before he was mine. He was not political. He did not care about standing or positioning or the social geometry of pack life. What he cared about was the p
