THE COUNCIL CHAMBER was built to intimidate — tall marble columns, gilded insignias of ancient packs, and a circular table carved from black oak. The banners of each Elder hung high above their seats, where the Elders of the Werewolf Council sat in judgment. Their eyes glimmered coldly under the light coming from the chandeliers above.
Cassian stood in the center of the hall — broad-shouldered, calm, and dangerous in his silence. His presence alone was enough to still the murmurs that had rippled through the gathered wolves. His silver crest gleamed on his coat, the mark of the Alpha of the Silver Fang Pack.
“Alpha Cassian of the Silver Fang,” Elder Rael began, his tone steeped in arrogance. “You stand before the Council accused of defying a direct summons and harboring a hybrid of wit
