He could feel their fear before he even crossed the threshold.
It moved through the summit hall like static—tight, charged, hushed. Not panic. But readiness. The kind that came from remembering just how close he had come to burning them all.
Leaders from dozens of packs lined the stone chamber. Some stood beside their Betas, others flanked by elders or second-borns—eyes sharp, hands still.
No one reached for a weapon.
But no one exhaled either. They didn’t trust him.
Good.
They remembered. They remembered what he had done. What he hadn’t. What he could’ve done if no one had stopped him.
Let them remember.
Because remembering was what kept peace alive.
He entered the summit hall without fanfare. The full Ixchele delegation had arrived earlier—thirty strong, dressed in ritual white,
