Over my dead body

***

DANTE

***

The boardroom was silent except for the soft hum of the projector. The pale glow of the screen painted the walls, and seven elderly faces stared back at me from across the table. The council of elders.

Rowan stood by side, steady and alert.

The air in the room was thick, suffocating even, as though the walls themselves were listening.

I twirled the pen between my fingers, the small sound of it clicking against the table breaking the thick silence. Their stares didn’t bother me. I was used to them. Fear, suspicion, unease—it was the same every time.

Finally, one of the elders finally cleared his throat, the sound breaking the suffocating air. “Alpha King,” he began, his voice cautious, “since your sudden reappearance, the packs have grown restless. Even our pack, the Dark Howl pack.”

I didn’t lift my eyes, still moving the pen, letting it roll lazily. Then, with a voice that cut through the room, I asked, “Why?”

Another elder shifted uneasily before answering.

“The rum