The hall fell quiet under Callan’s crimson stare. No one moved to restrain him or Lily. Elder Elwyn went to the hearth and took the ceremonial traitor’s brand from its stand.
He thrust the iron into the coals. For generations, that brand had marked wolves for exile.
Lily watched its tip turn red. Her breaths came faster as heat wavered above the coals.
Every wolf present had seen the map, the meeting, and the false scream through the Sacred Tree. Elwyn called no witnesses. No one asked him to wait.
When the iron glowed red, Elwyn drew it from the fire and walked toward Lily.
She scrambled back until the council table stopped her. Her eyes went to the Luna’s Seat she had occupied four nights earlier.
“No, please.” Her eyes darted to Callan. “Alpha Callan, please! He’s going to hurt me
