Lothaire’s POV
The summons was not a request. It was a command, a single, cold word sent through a private channel that only my sons would understand. I waited in the main study, the heavy scent of old books and aged leather a comfort in my fury. They would come. They had to. My authority was absolute, and their continued defiance was a direct challenge to my rule. My wolf, a powerful, ancient beast, was a coiled spring of contained rage. I had given them a chance to correct their mistake, to bring Astrid to me willingly. They had chosen to stand against me. Now, they would face the consequences.
They entered the room as a single, unified force. Their scents, a powerful mix of defiance, protectiveness, and a raw, contained fury, filled the air. They stood before me, their heads held high
