Serena’s POV
The air in the pack house main hall was thick with the scent of lilies and cold judgment.
I stood at the center of the room with a very stiff stance, watching the elders of the Thornblood pack shift uncomfortably on their velvet-lined benches.
These were the same men and women who had bowed to me for three years and consulted me on trade treaties.
They always came to me with problems they couldn't handle and begged me to sort it out for them.
The finance chief who begged me to balance the ledgers when the pack’s coffers ran dry was standing in their mix unable to meet my eyes.
Cowards. All of them are cowards. They wouldn't even meet my eyes.
"Serena," Belinda began, her voice echoing with that fake sweetness I had recognized to always make my skin crawl lately.
