Mark
"Vote her out, Mark. "
That's how the meeting started.
No pretense. No subtlety. Just cold commands delivered across polished oak, surrounded by sigils of power and wolves with old blood and older grudges.
I sat at the head of the table, the weight of the Werewolf Presidency still too new on my shoulders. It wasn't a crown. It was a collar. Tight. Heavy. Chained to everything I thought I understood.
Lord Verrick didn't blink as he said it again. "She's a danger to the Academy. She's destabilizing the future of the noble houses. "
I leaned back, arms crossed, masking the tension in my jaw. "Zara hasn't broken a single law. "
"She doesn't need to, " muttered Lady Elitha. "She is the threat. "
I looked around the room. Twelve council members. All born into blood
