DARIUS'S POV
The funeral pyre for Roderick burned high, casting shadows over the Silvermoon pack’s gathered crowd. Pack members wept, their faces twisted with grief for their fallen alpha, but I kept my head bowed, hiding my smirk. My wolf growled low, thrilled that my wolfsbane plan had worked, leaving me steps from the alpha throne.
The air was heavy with sorrow, the pack’s cries echoing in the night. I stood near the front, my face a mask of false mourning, perfect and unreadable. No one suspected I’d poisoned Roderick’s juice, clearing my path to power.
The Shadow Council’s representatives, cloaked in black, stood solemnly nearby. Their message of mourning had arrived, calling Roderick a great leader, lost too soon. My wolf snorted, knowing I’d outsmarted them all, even their lofty
