Alpha Valen’s study felt like a tomb draped in grandeur. The scent of old parchment and polished oak, usually comforting, was now suffocating. Kael stood before the massive desk, Ronan a silent, mountainous sentinel at the door. Valen wasn’t seated in his lordly chair. He stood by the cold hearth, his back to Kael, staring into the ashes of last night’s fire.
“The Silvermane arrives tomorrow at dusk,” Valen said, his voice a low rumble that didn’t turn. “Their Alpha, Thorne, is a traditionalist. A hardliner. He will sense the… discord. The anomaly. He will demand answers I do not have.”
Kael kept his head slightly bowed, the picture of submissive confusion. “I am sorry, Alpha. I do not understand what happened any more than you do.” The lie, practiced, felt like gravel on his tongue.
Va
