Master Oliver Gold looked out over the sea of increasingly agitated Lycan guests with his amber eyes and smiled. News of Edward Alder’s death had been slow to reach their Lycan ears, and by the time they had heard the news, it was too late because they had already been lured to Edward’s estate with the promise of a ball. It was not their Lycan king that had greeted them at the door, however, and they had been too stupid and self-assured to do anything but walk into the werewolf-filled ballroom regardless, like rabbits walking ignorantly into a trap.
“Henry and Anthony should be here for this,” the Council Master standing beside him said, keeping his voice low enough that only the seven Masters around him could hear him.
“We cannot wait for them any longer,” Gold replied sternly. “We mu
