The storm broke the day Kaelin stepped into the Council Hall.
Rain beat against the grand windows of High Fang Keep, a relentless drumming that matched the pounding in her chest. She had never entered this hall before — not as a pack slave, not as a soldier, not even as Theron’s mate. But now, she entered not as a pawn, but as a player in the game.
The hall was a massive circular chamber, lined with black marble columns and banners of the ten noble houses. The ancient oak table at the center bore claw marks from centuries of arguments. The lords and ladies, alphas and betas, their scents mingling in tension and dominance, turned to face her.
Theron stood at the head, golden-eyed and unreadable. His wolf, so close to the surface, made the air crackle.
Kaelin's voice rang out. "Before we
