The midday sun filtered dimly through the carved windows of the Alpha’s quarters in crimson Pack. The heavy scent of jasmine incense filled the room, clashing with the tension that clung to the air. Freda, Luna of Crimson Pack, sat rigidly on a velvet-cushioned settee, her fingers laced over her lap, lost in thought. The pack had been quiet lately.
She didn’t trust the silence—it always preceded a storm.
I wonder what that son of mine is up to. He better not ruin our plans, she thought.
There was a soft knock at the door.
Freda raised her eyes. “Yes?” she called, her voice clipped.
The door creaked open, and her right-hand maid, Lina, entered, bowing respectfully. In her hand was a sealed parchment, bound in a silver ribbon and stamped with the crest of the Lupari Council.
“This arri
