Damon POV
The longhouse reeked of smoke, old pine, and politics.
I shoved the door open hard enough to rattle the hinges and stalked inside, pretending the pulse in my throat wasn’t still synced to hers.
The council was already gathered - a mix of rogues, warriors, and former pack wolves too stubborn to die and too loyal to leave. Kael leaned back in her chair, boots on the table, spinning a knife between her fingers. Riven sat stiffly, arms crossed, eyes calculating. Maela didn’t even bother to hide her frown when she saw me. And Maddox -
Maddox was drunk.
Again.
He slouched in his chair with a grin too wide, a tankard in one hand and a fresh gash across his cheek that hadn’t been there yesterday. His eyes gleamed with something feral - not madness, exactly. Just too much of everyth
