CH.2

RORY

By sunrise, I felt like someone had reversed a truck over my body.

The Council summons sat on my kitchen counter, holding a cup of coffee strong enough to qualify as a medical event and stared at the elegant script.

UNVERIFIED MATE STATUS.

"How romantic," I muttered. "They could've sent flowers."

My phone buzzed.

Zane: I'm downstairs.

Me: That's unfortunate.

Zane: Open the elevator or I'll charm the concierge.

Me: He has standards.

Zane: He also has eyes and excellent taste.

Despite myself, I snorted, then pressed the access button.

By the time Zane stepped into my penthouse, I'd already taken two painkillers, hidden the suppressant case very well, and decided that murder before noon was only socially unacceptable if there were witnesses.

Zane Black walked in wearing a charcoal suit, black shirt, and the expression of a man who'd come prepared to physically drag his Alpha away from bad decisions if necessary.

He was tall, lean, and too handsome for his own emotional safety, with dark blond hair swept back and blue eyes that immediately moved over my face, throat, ribs, and hands.

I hated being assessed.

"Before you start," I warned, grabbing my blazer from the back of a chair, "I look fantastic."

"You look like you fought a refrigerator and insulted its mother," Zane didn't look happy.

"The refrigerator started it."

His jaw tightened when he saw my throat. "Who did that?"

"A man currently eating through a straw, if there's justice."

"Rory." Zane said gently.

I turned on him. "Don't use that tone. I'm not one of your rookies, and I'm not in the mood to be emotionally x-rayed before breakfast!"

Zane held up both hands, but his eyes stayed sharp. "Fine. No lecture."

That was why I kept him.

Not because he obeyed. Zane had never been especially gifted at that. But because he knew when worry would make me cruel, and he loved me enough not to force me into it unless he had no other choice.

Zane crossed to the counter and picked up the summons. "Blood Ridge and Iron Fang will be there. They want your borders and your connections. If the Council cracks open the widow claim, they'll argue Shadow Moon operates under false succession protection."

I went still for half a second, then reached for my sunglasses.

Zane noticed.

"Blood Ridge wants our northern border," he said. "Iron Fang wants your connections. If the Council cracks open the widow claim, they'll argue Shadow Moon has been operating under false succession protection."

"And I'll argue they can all choke."

"That won't be enough," Zane argued.

"It has range."

His stare flattened.

I sighed and slid the summons out of his hand. "The documents are clean."

"Documents bleed if the right person cuts them."

"Then we cut back."

Three years of lies sat between us.

The fake mate. The staged death. The forged mourning period.

The sealed records Zane had helped me build because he had understood what the pack would lose if the world saw me as mateless, damaged, and alone.

He had never asked for gratitude, which made it worse.

His gaze lowered to my purse. "Did you take suppressants this morning?"

"What a hideous question." I slipped on my sunglasses.

"Kira said your levels are dangerous."

"Kira also owns three cardigans with ducks on them, so her judgment is already questionable!"

Zane's expression changed.

"If you collapse in that chamber," he said quietly, "they'll use it."

"I won't collapse."

Zane pretended not to notice the way my hands shook.

Right then, my security screen lit up near the door, showing Kira in the private foyer with a medical bag over one shoulder and murder in her eyes.

I stared at the screen. "Absolutely not!"

Zane crossed over and opened the elevator access.

"Traitor!" I snapped.

"Alive Alpha outranks offended Alpha."

Soon, Kira swept in before I could threaten either of them properly, wearing a green wrap dress and a terrifying smile. "I'm coming."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"I'll throw you into traffic."

"I packed anti-nausea injections, clotting foam, emergency stabilizers, and a folding scalpel."

I paused. "Why a folding scalpel?"

Kira smiled sweetly. "For traffic."

Zane coughed into his fist.

"Don't encourage her." I pointed at him.

Kira moved closer, studying my bruises. "You took more—"

I grabbed my purse and headed for the elevator. "We're leaving before this becomes an intervention!"

"It became an intervention when you swallowed lab-grade poison and called it a coping strategy," Kira shot back, following me.

"Car's waiting." Zane fell into step on my other side.

I slid my sunglasses back on. "Wonderful. Nothing says dignity like arriving at my public execution with two babysitters."

--

The Elder Council building was a monolithic fortress of white marble and sheer glass.

The air outside was thick with the scent of hundreds of wolves.

Zane stood on my right. Kira on my left as we pushed through the heavy glass doors into the cavernous lobby.

Conversations died mid-sentence and heads turned.

The air grew thick with judgment.

"That's the Widow Queen."

"I heard she slit his throat while he slept."

"Look at her eyes. She's cursed."

I stopped walking.

The sudden halt caused a ripple of unease through the crowd.

I turned slowly, locking eyes with a cluster of well-dressed Alphas who'd been whispering the loudest.

"If you've got a theory about how I killed him, I suggest you say it to my face.” I smiled wickedly.

“Though I should warn you, the last prick who spoke to me without permission left the room with his jaw wired shut. Who wants to go first?" I projected my voice, letting the cold, sharp edge of my Alpha aura bleed into the room.

The silence that followed was absolute.

I let out a mocking scoff, turned back around, and froze.

The crowd near the main entrance had parted, splitting down the middle like the Red Sea. Three men walked through the gap, but I only saw one.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, brutally composed, and his bespoke suit cut with the kind of precision that made wealth look like a weapon.

His dark skin was flawless against the severe black of his clothes, and his face held a cold, carved beauty that didn't invite admiration so much as demand caution.

But it was his eyes that stopped the breath in my lungs. They were a striking, luminous silver-grey, and they were locked directly on me as if the rest of the lobby had ceased to be useful.

Evren Stormvale. This was my first time meeting him.

He stared at me. The black hair. The ice-blue eyes. The sheer, unapologetic defiance radiating from my small frame.

He was magnificent. He was dangerous!

Evren stopped across the lobby.

I felt the weight of his stare peeling back my layers. It made me feel exposed… a sensation I violently despised.

Standing behind him was Tyson Warren. Tall and lean, with dark blond hair swept neatly away from an aristocratic face. He wore his charcoal suit like armor, and his gray-green eyes missed nothing.

Tyson noticed the pause. "My King?"

"Aurora Moonridge?" Evren didn't look away from me.

"Yes." Tyson frowned slightly, observing the tension.

"Interesting." A dark, calculating glint flashed in Evren's eyes.

Of course I heard them. Wolves in the lobby were trying desperately not to breathe.

Kira leaned a fraction closer to my ear. "Breathe," she murmured.

I quickly masked my sudden trembling with distilled arrogance and lifted my chin. "Take a picture, Your Majesty. It lasts longer. Or I can sign an autograph if you brought a pen."

Tyson let out a choked sound that might have been a laugh.

Evren's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch, which somehow felt more dangerous than a smile. Men like him weren't used to public insult.

The heavy mahogany doors to the inner chamber groaned open before anyone could respond, and a stern-faced guard struck a staff against the floor. "The Elder Council is now in session. All summoned parties, please enter!"

I broke eye contact first, turning on my heel and marching into the chamber.

Evren watched me go with a slight arch on his sexy lips.

The Council chamber was circular, built like an arena pretending to be a courtroom.

Five Elders sat on the raised dais beneath the moon crest. Around them, the great packs filled the galleries: Blood Ridge in dark red, Iron Fang in steel gray, lesser Alphas packed behind them like vultures waiting for permission.

I took my place at the center podium while Zane and Kira remained behind my left shoulder.

Evren didn't join the floor. He ascended to the royal viewing box with Tyson and sat above the chamber like he owned the air.

Perhaps he did.

The room had shifted around him since he entered.

Even from up there, I could feel his eyes burning into my skin.

Elder Matthias leaned forward. His hair fell around his face in thin, saintly wisps, which I found offensive given the man's personality.

"Aurora of the East Coast. You're summoned to answer for the escalating violence. We have reports of territorial violations and unprovoked attacks against the neighboring packs."

I gripped the edges of the podium. "With all due respect, Elder, your reports are absolute bullshit!"