The debate had dragged from sunrise into the deep heat of afternoon.
What began as strategy turned into arguments, turned into pacing, sighs, slammed cups, and silence. No one had eaten. No one had slept. The battle may have paused, but inside the Moon Packhouse, another kind of war raged on.
One by one, the elders excused themselves—too old, too tired, too steeped in loss to argue anymore. Only the family and Roy remained, locked inside the inner sanctum like a storm trapped in stone.
Pill sat at the head of the long table, unmoving. His jaw tight. His gaze unreadable. Roy stood near the door, silent, his jaw tight, eyes flicking between each speaker. Dakota stood just behind him, arms folded, a ghost of his younger Alpha self. Silent, but present. A wall of iron that still held its sh
