“Kira, please!”
The words tore from my throat before I could stop them. I surged forward, abandoning every shred of protocol, every ounce of Alpha composure I was supposed to embody in front of the Supreme Elders.
Before my boot could even hit the lower step of the altar, four Shadowfall enforcers stepped into my path, their dark silver blades clearing their scabbards with a sharp, synchronized clang.
“Step back, Alpha Vance,” Lord Malakor commanded, his voice as smooth and cold as polished ice as he stepped up beside Kira. “You are in the High Council Rotunda, not your pack house. You do not issue commands here.”
My fists trembled violently at my sides, my knuckles white, my wolf thrashing frantically against my chest. “She is my daughter, Malakor! You bought her debt, but you cannot
