MasukDominic POVThe uproar in the ballroom still raged around the base of the staircase.Elder Thomas stood clutching the foreclosure decree like an open wound, his knees visibly shaking, while Caleb and Joshua scrambled down from the mezzanine, surrounded by furious chieftains demanding an explanation for their mortgaged land. Vivian had backed into the shadows near the terrace doors, her face drained of all life, abandoned by the council wives who had so recently clung to her skirts.None of it mattered.The council’s collapse, the murmurs of scandal, the fractured pride of the northern elders—it all faded into white noise.My entire universe had narrowed down to the woman standing two feet away from me on the marble landing. She had just brought the most arrogant wolves in the territory to their knees with a single sheet of paper, and she hadn't even broken a sweat.I extended my right hand, palm up, between us.The gesture was formal, customary for the host of the gala to the guest of
Dominic POVThe tension on the grand staircase was thick enough to choke on.I stood barely two steps above Ember, the faint, maddening trace of wild honey battling against the sterile scent of her suppressants. My wolf was still pacing beneath my ribs, snarling and desperate, while the entire room held its breath.Before I could speak, heavy, dragging footsteps echoed against the marble.Elder Thomas pushed his way past the lesser council members at the base of the stairs. As the elder in charge of ancestral land rights and bloodline registries, Thomas was notorious for his unyielding disdain toward anyone without pure northern blood. His silver torc sat heavy on his chest, his gray brows pinched in sour disgust as his gaze raked over Ember’s emerald gown."A spectacle indeed, Sovereign," Thomas sneered, his gravelly voice carrying cleanly across the silent ballroom. He didn't bother bowing or offering the customary deference. "A grand entrance for a foreign guest. But perhaps someo
Dominic POVThe silence in the Grand Ballroom was not merely quiet; it was an absolute vacuum.The orchestral strings died mid-crescendo, the musicians frozen with bows hovering above their instruments. Six hundred high-born northern wolves, clan chieftains, and foreign dignitaries stood petrified, glasses halfway to their mouths, their collective breath stolen in a single, stunned inhalation.At the bottom of the grand marble staircase, Ember Nico stood under the blinding downpour of the crystal chandeliers.The liquid emerald silk caught every facet of the chandelier light, glowing like deep forest jade over skin so pale and flawless it seemed sculpted from marble. The asymmetrical cut, the cascade of shadow-tinted lace along her arm, the perilous slit that whispered open with the slightest shift of her stance—it was not just an exquisite gown.It was an executioner’s axe aimed squarely at my throat.Deep behind my ribs, my inner wolf, who had spent five years locked in a comatose s
Ember POVThe official Sovereign Summons arrived on a silver tray at nine in the morning.It was heavy, deckle-edged vellum stamped with the roaring wolf of Whiteridge in black wax, edged with pure gold leaf. Across the central lines ran Dominic’s bold, angular script, naming Ember Nico, Chief Executive Officer of Elysium Exchange, as the Guest of Honor for the Annual Winter Solstice Gala.Below it, beneath the formal seals, the news ticker on my tablet was already on fire:(WHITERIDGE HIGH COUNCIL IN SHOCK: SOVEREIGN JARVALD SNUBS ACTING LUNA VIVIAN GEORGE; FOREIGN HUMAN EXECUTIVE NAMED GUEST OF HONOR.)Lucian set a steaming mug of tea on the mahogany desk in our suite. He looked down at the formal proclamation, leaning over my shoulder with a dry, knowing smirk."He bypassed the four elders completely," Lucian said, crossing his arms over his linen shirt. "Vivian hasn’t left her wing since the morning announcement. Sources in the domestic quarters say she shattered two crystal decan
Dominic POVThe Grand Council Chamber of Whiteridge had not felt this cold in five years.Sunlight struggled through the tall, arched stained-glass windows, painting fractures of deep ruby and dull sapphire across the long slate table. At the far end of the room sat the four Elder Lords of the Northern Reach, wrapped in heavy furs and wearing the silver torcs of their ancestral houses. Across from them stood Michael, holding a leather ledger of the pack’s quarterly accounts, looking as stiff and uneasy as a sentry waiting for incoming mortar fire.I sat at the head of the table. My damp clothes from the night before had been replaced by a sharply tailored charcoal three-piece suit. My hands rested flat against the dark stone, fingers curled just enough that the faint scars across my knuckles caught the morning light.I hadn't slept. Not an hour. Not a second.Every time I closed my eyes, the sound of fingernails clawing at the inside of an oak door echoed in my ears. Every breath bro
Dominic POVThe water dripped from my clothes, pooling onto the floorboards of my private study.I didn't turn on the lamps. I didn't change out of the soaked black shirt that clung cold and heavy to my skin. I sat on the edge of the leather sofa in the dark, my elbows on my knees, my head buried in my shaking hands.The downpour outside beat against the glass like stones, but it couldn't drown out her voice.He never betrayed me.He never abandoned me.And he never starved me.Every syllable looped through my head, scraping against bone, peeling back five years of careful lies and council reports.Starved me.The phrase dragged me under, pulling me backward into the cold stone corridors of five years ago.It had been the winter before the fire. The high council had just finalized the border pact with Vivian’s father, securing southern supply lines. Vivian had moved into the eastern wing, strutting through the packhouse like she owned the ground everyone walked on. And Daciana had ref







