The meeting hall was a cavernous space of high ceilings, polished stone floors, and arched windows that framed the pale morning light. It sat atop the Alpha King’s city tower, secured against threats and reinforced for secrecy. Inside, the room was filled with low murmurs, tension humming beneath every word like a taut wire ready to snap.
The Alpha King stood at the head of a long obsidian table. Beside him sat his Second, and further down, the attending Alphas and Lunas from neighboring and allied packs.
Victoria leaned silently against the far wall, arms crossed tight over her chest, a clipboard hugged loosely to her side. She wasn’t there to speak. She was there to observe, to report, and maybe—if she was honest—to ground herself in the hum of responsibility.
Even now, a faint echo
