Amos’ pov
"I need ideas! Ideas." I yelled, slamming my hands on the mahogany table. "You aren't my war wolves for nothing. I didn't place you lot here to eat food and celebrate while our threat is still alive."
The tension in the room was thick as my esteemed pack members exchanged glances, each searching for a solution to our pressing dilemma–Prince f*****g Rivers.
"We have to involve humans," Urela said without hesitation, her eyes burning with determination.
"No," I growled, feeling the weight of her foolish words. There were so many things wrong with her suggestion. "There are twenty percent humans. Half of them are hunters."
Urela smirked confidently. "Exactly my point. That black blood Prince is the only real threat we have ever had in centuries. We need humans."
Nods of agreem
