The council room erupts in chaos.
Voices clash against one another, each fighting to be heard over the next. The oval oak table groans under the assault of fists pounding its surface, demanding attention, demanding answers. Six Lieutenants crowd the space, their frustration thick enough to choke on.
Jackson sits in his chair on the Alpha's immediate right, fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the table's edge, though no one notices due to the uproar. His gaze is unfocused, fixed on the empty throne at the head of the table.
Her skin. Moon goddess, her skin had been so—
“Beta.” Lieutenant Arden in charge of the Deltas, call.
He doesn’t reply.
“Jackson.” He calls again
Still nothing.
“Have you lost your hearing?” He snaps from across the table.
Jackson blinks, pulled back into t
