Chapter Seventy-Five
Trina’s POV
I am dressed in a pretty brown dress that stops in the middle of my thighs, and my hair straightened back and tucked daintily behind my ears. The head chef, Imelda, was in my room earlier today and she told me it was important to look demure and mindful when appearing before the council. She told me my nerves were only natural, even though I felt nothing but. All that coursed through my bones an hour ago was pure hatred, to be seated amongst the same persons that condemned my father and the entirety of my pack.
Now, on my feet in the front of the room, staring at the faces of all present, my mind goes over the story I have prepared in my head, ensuring I leave no loopholes and no probability of it being traced back to my mother. Logan has avoided my gaze
