Kalel
My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Not from fear—I'd faced down rogue alphas and psychotic vampires without breaking a sweat—but from rage so intense it felt like my blood might actually boil. The image of that obsidian blade slashing across Councilor Rivera's throat kept replaying in my mind, along with the acid sizzling against Savannah's face. If Iowyn hadn't already shipped Rachel's corrupt ass to Winter Court's version of supernatural Alcatraz, I might have torn her apart myself.
"Breathe, brother," Caleb murmured, his hand squeezing my shoulder as the Council members filed out of our ruined meeting room. The hidden folk buzzed around us in organized chaos, their tiny hands already erasing evidence of the attack with unsettling efficiency. "She's gone. Everyone's okay."
"Okay?"
