Ronan
The council chamber reeks of sweat and tension.
I sit at the head of the long stone table, fingers drumming a rhythm of barely restrained violence against the carved wolf emblem.
Enforcers flank the room, some standing with arms crossed, others sitting uneasily like the stone beneath them might crack.
They’ve stopped looking me in the eye.
Good. I feel like killing something and I don’t need any encouragement to choose violence.
I let the silence stretch.
Jace speaks first, low and even. “Redmaw’s getting bolder. They’ve crossed the southern boundary four times this week.”
“They’re watching,” someone mutters. “Waiting to see if we fall apart.”
“They won’t have to wait long,” Mara snaps.
The room freezes.
She leans forward, dark eyes burning into mine. “They smell weakness
