The Blackmoon Pack’s guest dining room was smaller than the grand hall the Alpha used for big meetings, but it still felt too large for the four people spread along the table like a bad painting.
My father sat at the far end, back straight, knife and fork moving with precise, economical motions. Lena lounged to his left, perfect posture disguised as nonchalance. My mother took her usual chair to his right, small and pale and careful.
My place waited near them. Not at the head. Not anywhere near Lucian’s usual seat.
Just there. An accessory.
“Finally,” my father said when we entered. “Sit.”
He didn’t look up from his plate.
A servant moved to pour coffee into his cup. He didn’t thank them.
I took my seat silently. My mother slipped into hers beside me, hands trembling as she reached
