The air in the Hall of Judgments fractured, but it did not explode into immediate chaos. Instead, it became a suffocating, calculated stand-off.
The twelve elite guards did not rush in blindly like the cinematic grunts Silas had torn through in the past. These were the High Tribunal's veterans. They moved in a synchronized, tight Phalanx formation, heavy iron shields overlapping, their long silver-tipped spears forming an impenetrable wall of lethal points. They knew exactly how to hunt a dominant Alpha.
A low, vibrating rumble started deep in Silas’s throat, making the stone floor beneath us tremble.
Through the burning mark on my neck and the electric thread of the blood pact, Silas’s fury was no longer just an emotion. It was a physical weight. But for the first time since I had met
