The fire in the council chamber crackled softly, but Lucian Wolfe felt none of its warmth. He stood in the circle of high-backed chairs, facing the oldest Alphas of the region—men who had shaped werewolf law for centuries. His hands were clenched at his sides, but his voice was steady.
“I want to sever the bond with Seraphine.”
The words echoed like thunder in the chamber.
Alpha Garrick of the West Ridge was the first to react, rising slowly from his seat. His beard was streaked with silver, his eyes sharp with the weight of decades. “Do you understand what you're asking, Lucian Wolfe?”
Lucian met his gaze. “Yes. And I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t thought it through.”
Alpha Marcel, frowned deeply. “This is not some adolescent mating you wish to discard. You were joined before the Moon
