chapter 10

Trystan

These council meetings are a waste of my goddamned time.

But I come to them because that’s what I’m supposed to do. The alpha plays nice with the other packs. The alpha builds bridges and shakes hands and kisses rancid ass to ensure cooperation between them and us. Inter-pack cooperation and all that stupid bullshit.

That doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I hate this drafty barn the North Pack has built out of recycled materials and spit, and I especially hate listening to fucking Ridge Harcourt droning on about trespassers on their land, or Archer from the East Pack talking about his sick father.

Their problems are real, and they have my sympathies—but their problems aren’t my problems. My pack is doing fine. We’re handling the witch threat, beefing up our own security, and not for the first time, I’m spending every boring second of this meeting wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.

The West Pack has never been stronger. My pack hasn’t lost a wolf yet, and those goddamned wit