The gates of Bloodmoon Citadel swung open.
Through the morning mist, a single carriage bearing the silver wolf crest of the Grey family rolled slowly into the courtyard, flanked by only four royal guards flying white peaceful-passage banners.
Diego stood at the top of the stairs with his hand resting casually on the pommel of his broadsword. I stood beside him with my arms crossed. Below us, bound in iron chains and kneeling in mud, sat Silas. He was bloody, broken and shivering like a drowning pup.
"Hmmm, I expected a car," I said as I watched the carriage approach. "I guess even the old man knows when to shed his pride."
The carriage stooped and the door opened. Alexander stepped out.
The proud Alpha who had ruled Silver Crest for forty years looked disoriented. For the first time
