Two weeks passed in a blur of preparation and politics I didn't fully understand.
The Continental Summit was being held in neutral territory—a sprawling estate in Vermont that belonged to no pack but served all of them. Ezra's intelligence network had confirmed that every major Alpha in the eastern territories would be there, along with various Beta representatives, Gamma advisors, and enough political posturing to make my head spin.
"You need formal dress," Maya announced, barging into the healing room where I was reading to the boys. "Summit protocol requires traditional attire."
"I don't have traditional anything."
"Which is why I'm here." She dropped three garment bags on the bed. "Luna formal wear. Pick one."
The dresses were beautiful and completely impractical. Flowing silk in
