I pressed on.
“Look,” I said, sweeping my gaze around the clearing, making sure the guards, the elders, and even the junior priestess could see exactly where I was staring. “Who’s missing from this ‘holy’ ceremony your Alpha so kindly attended?”
My voice dripped acid on the word kindly.
“The human man,” I went on. “The one who insisted the Luna come to the shrine. The daughter who pushed it, too. Both absent. And now, rogues appear asking for my head, speaking of witch debts and my father’s name.”
I turned back to the rogues.
“How convenient,” I said.
A high‑ranking elder—not Maris, but Elder Harlan, always quick to sense political shifts—went very still. His eyes narrowed, flicking from Victor’s half‑hidden form to Lucian to me.
He saw it.
Motive.
Pattern.
Victor’s fingers dug i
