The air in the high council chamber was thick with the scent of burning cedar and old, ancestral friction.
Cassian sat at the head of the long, semicircular table carved from a single slab of black walnut, his large hands flat against the polished wood. The heavy gold-and-silver Alpha medallion hung around his neck, feeling less like a symbol of absolute authority today and more like a tether. Every muscle in his broad shoulders was locked in a state of hyper-vigilance, his dark eyes tracking the movements of the twelve elders seated before him.
The seat directly to his right, the Luna’s chair, remained empty. Elena had begged to stay in their quarters after the humiliation at the winter solstice audit, and though every protective instinct in his blood had roared at him to force her inte
