The roaring cheers of the Great Hall still vibrated against the stone walls, but the air around Silas and me turned ice-cold in a matter of seconds.
Up in the gallery, the young messenger was visibly trembling. His knuckles were white as he clutched the heavy parchment roll. The black wax seal, stamped with the crest of a blindfolded wolf holding a scale, seemed to absorb the torchlight of the hall.
The Council of Alphas. The supreme, ancient governing body of all werewolf territories.
They were the judges, the executioners, and the keepers of the old laws. They rarely intervened in the squabbles between packs, leaving the Alphas to govern their own lands through tooth and claw. But when they did step in, it usually meant the end of a bloodline.
Silas’s grip on my waist tightened to th
