The pack hall smelled of fresh bread, smoked bacon, and the sharp tang of too many wolves in one room—excitement, curiosity, barely concealed gossip. The long oak tables were crowded with pack members still riding the high of yesterday’s ceremony. Gaius sat at the head table like a king on a throne he had only just claimed, flanked by elders on one side and visiting alphas on the other. His plate was piled high, untouched. His attention was elsewhere.
Maisie knelt at his feet.
Not beside the chair. Not behind it. Directly in front, between his boots, facing the hall. A shallow silver bowl had been placed on the floor in front of her—scraps of meat, torn bread, a few cold potatoes. No utensils. No dignity.
Gaius rested one hand casually on her shoulder, fingers curled just enough to remi
