ZAIN
The council room was carved into the bones of the mountain—stone walls etched with history, lit by torches that flickered like they could feel the tension crawling beneath our skin.
Every seat was filled.
Elders in robes lined one side, battle-scarred Alphas the other. Cian stood at my right, expression carved from steel, while Selene lounged to my left like the predator she was, her lips curved in a lazy smirk.
And across the long obsidian table—sat the ones who wished I'd choke on the power they gave me.
"You're late," Elder Rhagos said, voice brittle with age and arrogance.
I didn't bother answering. Let the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable, let them squirm. I sat at the head of the table and exhaled slowly.
"The rogues," I said, "were coordinated this time."
That shut them up.
Elder Loras leaned forward, face pale. "Coordinated how?"
