Modric’s POV
Alpha Lucian Draven arrived before noon with six Frostfang guards, two advisers, and the kind of smile that made me distrust him immediately.
He stepped down from his black carriage wearing a dark blue coat trimmed with silver fur, looking more like a man arriving for a celebration than a border meeting. Lucian had always been charming when he wanted something. He used easy laughter, careful compliments, and polite questions to make people forget that he was studying every weakness in the room.
I had never forgotten.
“Alpha Modric,” he greeted, extending his hand. “It has been too long.”
“Not long enough.”
Lucian laughed as though I had made a joke and gripped my hand firmly. “I heard marriage had improved your manners.”
“It has not.”
“So I see.”
Kylian stood beside m
