Damien's POV
The council chamber smells, like it always does when my father has called for a meeting that nobody wanted. It’s the particular scent of old dust and the sweat of men who know better than to say no to Alpha Dexter.
I stand near the corner, partly concealed by the shadows, my arms crossed while I watch the elders arrange themselves around the long stone table. Everyone’s careful about how they move, speak, and everything else when Alpha Dexter’s in the room. I have been watching them make these small calculations my whole life and still I cannot always predict which direction they will cut to avoid scrutiny.
My father takes the head seat. He does not sit so much as settle, he rests his hands flat on the cold surface, fingers slightly curled and does not speak immediately. He
