The heavy oak doors of the High Council Rotunda swung shut behind us, cutting off the echo of Damon’s frantic, broken roars.
As we stepped onto the sunlit marble plaza of Grandos, the cold mountain breeze brushed against my face. My fingers relaxed where they rested on Lord Malakor’s sleeve. Inside my chest, there was no racing pulse, no lingering panic, and no desperate urge to look back. For five years, I had believed that standing up to Damon Vance would tear my heart in two. Instead, stepping out of his shadow felt like taking my very first breath of real air.
“You handled yourself with extraordinary composure, Lady Kira,” Malakor murmured, his dark eyes sweeping the perimeter as his elite enforcers formed a tight defensive square around us. “Most who face an Alpha’s public breakdown
