Gracelyn POV The pack house had never felt so alive yet so tense. Every detail of the dining hall — polished oak floors reflecting the flickering candlelight, the faint scent of roasted venison mingling with lavender from the floral arrangements, the soft rustle of guards shifting behind curtains — screamed anticipation. Damon’s hand rested lightly on the small of my back, grounding me, a quiet reminder that no matter how formidable the others were, I wasn’t alone. Viktor entered with deliberate calm, like a shadow moving across a chessboard. Every wolf in the room subtly shifted, instinctively calculating. He didn’t look at me first; his dark gaze locked on Damon, measuring, weighing, testing. And yet, when he did finally glance my way, it wasn’t disrespect, nor curiosity—it was assessment. The golden pulse beneath my skin stirred faintly, sensing recognition in him, something older, deliberate. “Alpha Damon,” Viktor said smoothly, his voice low and controlled, carrying easily acr
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