I took each step down the grand staircase with measured precision, the centuries-old traditions of our pack pressing down on my shoulders like an invisible cloak. The suit I wore was a masterpiece of tailoring, its fine fabric contouring to my body, speaking volumes of power and command without uttering a single word. Eyes followed my descent, a familiar sensation that I navigated with the ease of long practice. This was my stage, my domain, and I moved through it with a grace born of countless such nights.
Upstairs, Norella was undoubtedly wrestling with the dread of confronting the very people who had shattered her world—the Lowell family. Her absence was palpable, a silent testament to the inner turmoil she was enduring. I understood the monumental effort it took for her to be here, bu
