Chase’s POV
The Neutral Grounds Lodge smelled of old woodsmoke and wolf. Torchlight flickered across the long oak table, throwing shadows that made every face look harder, older. The seven elders sat at the head—stone-faced, silver-haired, eyes that had seen too many bloodlines rise and fall. Mara Voss presided in the center, her gaze cutting like winter wind.
Dmitri stood on the left side of the room, arms crossed, mouth curved in that same mocking half-smile he’d worn at the bar. His betas flanked him—silent, watchful. I stood on the right with Amelia beside me. No crutches tonight. The brace was hidden under dark slacks; I’d forced my leg to bear weight for the walk in. Every step burned, but I kept my spine straight. Let them see the limp. Let them see I still stood.
Mara’s voice ca
