Amelia’s POV
The torchlight in the Neutral Grounds Lodge made every shadow sharper, every face harder. I could feel the weight of forty pairs of eyes—elders, betas, seconds, Dmitri’s smug stare from across the room. The air was thick with pine smoke and wolf musk, the kind of scent that clings to your skin long after you leave.
Mara Voss had just dismissed Dmitri’s proxy. The man in the gray suit stepped back, tablet clutched like a shield, his rehearsed confidence cracking at the edges. He’d read Samantha’s affidavit with theatrical pauses—every word designed to paint me as the seductress, the manipulator, the weak link in Chase’s bloodline.
Now it was my turn.
Chase squeezed my hand once—firm, steady—then let go. I felt the absence of his touch like a sudden cold wind, but I didn’t l
