Chapter 39
The elders moved swiftly.
They called it containment.
Zainab was summoned under the guise of protection, her presence requested—not demanded—because they had learned that force bent strangely around her now. Wards were prepared. Old sigils etched into stone. Laws recited that had once bent kings and alphas alike.
They believed grief had hollowed her.
They believed Rowan’s restraint was obedience.
They were wrong on both counts.
The moment Zainab crossed the threshold of the council grounds, the wards shuddered.
Not shattered—hesitated.
The elders felt it then. A ripple, like the earth taking a breath. Power answered her presence the way water answers gravity.
“She doesn’t know,” one elder whispered. “She can’t.”
But Zainab stopped walking.
She frowned—not in fear, bu
