The night air hung thick with tension, the weight of the council’s decree pressing against every wall of the packhouse. Even the wolves that prowled the grounds seemed unsettled, their howls echoing through the forest like warnings carried by the wind.
Lucas stood at the window of his study, broad shoulders rigid, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The letter—the summons sealed with the mark of the High Council—lay unopened on the desk behind him. He didn’t need to read it. The words were already burned into his mind, recited to him by the messenger who had dared not look him in the eye.
“You’re quiet,” Olivia’s voice broke the silence. She lingered in the doorway, hesitant, her fingers curled around the wooden frame. Her eyes, deep pools of warmth even in the shadowed light,
