The large meeting room of the pack’s mansion echoed with the faint hum of activity as Lupin and Lorion lingered at the long oak table. The morning sun filtered through the tall windows, casting warm patches of light across the room. The remnants of a half-hearted breakfast were scattered before them—a plate of croissants, a nearly empty pot of coffee, and a bowl of fruit that Lorion was absentmindedly picking through.
Lupin sat with his elbows on the table, sharp eyes scanning a series of documents spread before him. His jaw was tight, his expression intense, as he mulled over the latest developments in the pack’s territory disputes. Lorion, in stark contrast, lounged in his chair, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. He tossed an apple in the air and caught it repeatedly, his casual d
