The doors of the summit hall slammed shut behind us, cutting away the breeze of the neutral territory.
Inside, the scent of old oil and ancient parchment hung thick. Seated around the circular table were five Elders of the Ironclaw clan.
At the center sat Lord Ironclaw himself, Alpha Silas Senior (Not the coward I drove away earlier, but a man who governed thirty thousand neutral pack members along the northern border.)
"Alpha Diego of Bloodmoon," Lord Ironclaw spoke, resting his hands on the table. His sharp gaze shifted to me. "And Ophelia Scarlet. The woman who dismantled Silver Crest’s Third Regiment in less than twenty minutes."
I felt the weight of the elder Alphas fixing their gazes on me, searching for any sign of weakness.
"A few minutes faster, actually," I replied with a m
