Dominic’s POV
The place smelled like old smoke and worse nerves...everyone chewing on their words, spitting clipped insults about supply drops and border gaps. It was a miracle that the ancient oak table still stood between us. If those grizzled elders could use it to wring my neck, I think they would have. I just sat there, knuckles white, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Poker face mode, clinging to it for dear life.
Dante would have been gone for days. Arrested. Not that anyone in this room dared say his name. Still, he haunted all their eyes, and yeah, the shadow he left weighed heavier than the stink of lamp oil and sweat. Every elder, every grunt in the pack, they felt it gnawing and didn’t dare look at it head-on.
BANG.
The door practically shook off its hinges, and this warrior
