I sit at the head of the polished mahogany table. I am not wearing the silver-threaded robes of the Luna Regent. I am wearing a simple, dark tactical tunic and trousers. My left arm is in its carbon-fiber brace, a permanent reminder of the trench. I don't project my aura. I don't use magic. I just look at the assembled delegates with cold, human eyes.
To my right sits Kade, his right hand resting on the hilt of his tactical sidearm beneath the table. To my left sits General Croft, her military bearing rigid, her eyes flashing with a fierce, predatory light. Across from me are the human delegates: Secretary-General Lin, Dr. Hayes, and a dozen representatives from the global agricultural conglomerates.
And at the far end of the table sit the wolf elders: Alpha Chen, Alpha Morrison, and Sil
