The torches lining the stone hall flickered like they knew something I didn’t. Ryker’s hand brushed mine as we entered the chamber, his touch fleeting like he was trying not to make a scene. But it was too late for that.
Every Alpha on the High Council sat in their ceremonial chairs—half-moon shaped and towering, draped in crimson banners. Their eyes followed me like predators stalking prey. I recognized most of them from the stolen files we’d studied back at the Silver Thorn compound: ruthless leaders, ancient bloodlines. And every single one of them hated me on sight.
"Let her stand outside the circle," boomed Alpha Calder of the Eastern Glade. His long grey beard barely moved, but the venom in his voice cut deep. "She has no place among us."
"I disagree," Ryker said, voice cold steel
