ANDREII’d been too much of a prick to her at breakfast.It was a truth I had to admit to myself.Not just this morning—but every time I’ve seen her since she returned. If it could even be called that. She hadn’t announced herself. Hadn’t claimed her name or the history that lived between us. But I
ANDREIThe coffee in front of me had gone cold.I hadn’t touched it. Hadn’t touched anything, really, except the edge of the table, which I was fairly certain I’d cracked beneath my fingertips. I stared across the banquet hall, where laughter—bright and familiar—sliced through the quiet like a blade
“Soren,” Damon replied, voice clipped.Soren returned his attention to me. “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself. I heard you’ve been making waves during the council sessions. Very impressive for such a quiet pack.”“Thank you,” I said, keeping my voice polite.He made a few more meaningless commen
NATALIAThe summit banquet hall had shifted overnight. Gone was the moody candlelight and the velvety hush of dinner service. In its place, morning light streamed through the tall windows, catching on clean glassware and pale linens. The chandeliers still glowed, but softer now—diffused to something
“I’m positive.”And I believed her.I’d been in too many rooms with Natalia to miss the way her expression tightened when she was hiding something. Right now, there was nothing but cold, clinical fury. Not directed at me. Not even at Andrei.Directed at whoever thought they could get away with this.
DAMONI knew something was wrong the moment I saw the envelope.It wasn’t part of the usual summit correspondence. No crest, no wax seal, no stamped delivery marker from the courier desk. Just a thick envelope sitting on my desk like it had grown there overnight.No name. No note. No sender.Just a