The air in the Alphas study was thick, a heavy mixture of cedarwood, old parchment, and the lingering, acrid scent of the silver-smoke that had drifted in from the south wing during the extraction. It was a room designed for power, but tonight, it felt like a war room. The massive oak desk at the center was scarred by decades of use, the deep grooves in the wood holding the history of every difficult decision made within these walls. Under the dim, flickering glow of the green-shaded lamp, the maps of the territory looked like a landscape of jagged wounds, the ink lines blurring where the humidity of the rainy Texas night pressed against the glass windowpanes.
King Alaric stood at the head of the desk, his presence filling the small space until the walls seemed to pulse with the rhythmic
