EMMA
The Great Hall didn't just tilt; it shuddered with the sound of a thousand grinding teeth. The east wing was sliding into the abyss, and the only thing keeping the rest of the Chateâu from following was the sheer, stubborn weight of the central keep.
Dust choked the air, turning the "Unity Feast" into a ghostly theater of shadows. Beneath the screeching of the ultrasonic dampers, the pack was in a state of primal collapse. Gabriel was on his knees at the foot of the dais, his claws raking the stone as he fought to stay upright. The sedative was still a lead shroud over his wolf, and the Inquisitors’ frequency was a spike driven through his skull.
"Look at him!" Julian’s voice tore through the chaos, amplified by the hall’s acoustics. He stood on the high table, stepping over plates
