The council chamber reeked of fear disguised as protocol.
It always smelled faintly of parchment and polished stone, but this morning there was something sour under the incense. There was a tremor of adrenaline masked as decorum. Sunlight lanced through the tall stained-glass windows of the Blood Moon Pack’s palace, but even the light felt brittle, cold, as though it feared to touch what was about to happen. My seat at the head of the long stone table loomed like a throne carved out of ice. Below it, the elders shifted in their robes, murmuring like restless crows.
Norman prowled just under my skin, tail lashing. They’ve been circling all week. Today they’ll strike.
I drummed my fingers once on the armrest. The sound cut through the murmur like a blade and the chamber fell silent.
“Yo
