The council chamber of the Moonfall Neutral Grounds had never been so tense.
Ashyra stood at the edge of the circular chamber, flanked by her Gamma and two Silverclaw scouts. The polished obsidian floor glimmered beneath their boots, but no amount of shine could distract from the silence settling like a storm cloud.
Across from her stood Alpha Zoren of the Blackpine Pack—hulking, red-eyed, and coiled like a viper. Beside him, Alpha Callen of Ridgeback watched warily, his eyes flicking between the others like he was calculating exits. Three other alphas filled the room, each one radiating suspicion and challenge.
And in the center, calm as ice and twice as cold, was Stephan.
He hadn’t said a word yet. Hadn’t needed to. His presence alone stirred murmurs and narrowed gazes. The Nightshad
