The silence that stretched across the clinic room was deafening. Alpha Colt stared at me, his chest still heaving slightly as he processed my words, his eyes tracking the lethal conviction in my posture. The realization of exactly who he had sitting in his clinic—and the sheer magnitude of the political storm he had accidentally walked into—settled heavily over his features.
Finally, the tense line of his jaw relaxed, and he let out a soft huff of genuine amusement, shaking his head.
"Very well, Your Highness," he said, the title carrying a new, albeit slightly informal, layer of respect. He clasped his hands loosely behind his back. "I am Colt, Alpha of the Blue Mountain pack."
I frowned slightly, my mind instantly scanning the complex mental maps of territories and treaties I had stud
