The emergency summit at the High Council’s regional stronghold was pure, unadulterated chaos. Gone was the rigid, ancestral decorum that usually defined the gatherings of the continental Alphas. Inside the sprawling stone council hall, thirty supreme leaders of the most powerful packhouses in North America were practically baring their fangs at one another. The air was thick, suffocating with a volatile cocktail of dominant cedarwood, copper, and pine pheromones—all spiked with a deep, humiliating undertone of panic.
"My territorial infrastructure is completely paralyzed!" Alpha Raymond of the Iron Claw Pack roared, slamming both hands onto the ancient oak conference table so hard the heavy wood cracked down the center. "Twelve hundred Omegas walked out of my borders in a single night. My
