DARIAN
The message comes just before dawn, sharp and cold as the wind outside my window. A runner kneels at my door, chest heaving.
Unrest in the northern sector. Refusal to pay tribute. Hostility spreading.
The pack doesn’t sleep while I’m awake. By the time I stride into the council chamber, warriors and advisors are already gathering. The heavy doors close behind me with a hollow thud. I don’t sit. I stand at the head of the long table, hands flat against the wide map stretched across it, breathing in the silence that falls when an Alpha is about to speak.
Lucian arrives next, slipping in without ceremony. He takes the seat at my right, his steady presence a reminder that someone here still has my back. Theron comes last, of course, gliding in like the room belongs to him. He gree
