Chapter 6

The Grand Hall smelled like old wood and power. I stood at the podium, my hands resting on the polished surface, feeling the weight of every eye in the room. The Council of Elders sat in their high-backed chairs, faces carved from stone. Elder Hugh watched me with those sharp eyes, waiting.

I wore black. Not mourning clothes—armor. My hair was pulled back, severe and clean. Duke stood three steps behind me, silent as a shadow, his presence a wall of strength at my back.

"Luna Maeve Morgan of the Silver Moon Pack," Elder Hugh's voice carried through the hall.…