The council hall smelled of damp stone and stale authority.
Wolves crowded the chamber—councilors pressed against the walls, guards lining the aisles, onlookers craning from the doorways.
Two prisoners knelt in the center, shackles biting their wrists.
Aaron's shoulders were squared as if he could still command the room by posture alone, but the iron around his wrists said otherwise.
Samantha stood beside him, chin lifted, every inch of her posture calculated to appear untouched.
---
Isabella entered without hurry, the sound of her boots loud in the hush.
Every step toward the prisoners was deliberate, reminding them—and everyone watching—that she wasn't here to be hurried.
Aaron's gaze found hers first. His expression flickered—shock, then something she recognized as memory.
“Bel
