Today, the usually lavish conference room felt cold and unwelcoming. Tall windows let a sliver of afternoon light in, giving the long mahogany table an eerie glow. The air was thick, a mixture of old wood and the recent trace of lavender incense hinting at an earlier ritual. Outside, the muted footsteps and distant chatter only added to the stifling atmosphere within.
Amara could feel the room’s heavy history and the tension hanging in the air as she entered. As she waited discreetly by the door, she pulled her shawl tighter around her, the room’s chill seeping through her attire. In moments like these, the ornate clock’s ticking seemed louder, each tick full of anticipation.
As Thomas passed her, she noted the hair on the back of his neck bristling, a clear sign of his wolf’s inner turm
