The tension in the council chamber thickened until it felt like breathing through smoke.
I sat beside Clay, my spine straight, my hands folded tightly in my lap, while Selene stood several paces away, alone in the centre of the stone floor. The torches along the walls crackled softly, their flames bending as if even the fire sensed the unrest curling through the room.
An Alpha from the eastern part rose first. He did not shout. That made his words more dangerous.
“The widow of the Crescent Fang has no place here,” he said evenly. “She is not a leader. She is not sworn to this coalition. She should be asked to leave.”
A low hum of agreement followed.
Another elder nodded. “For the sake of order,” he added. “And respect.”
I felt Selene’s gaze flick toward Clay, sharp and expectant. She
