KELLY THOMPSON'S POV

The silence in the grand hall was a living thing, thick and choking, as it wrapped around my heart with icy tendrils. I watched Alpha Biansky's face contort in horror, his imposing figure rooted to the spot where chaos had turned to tragedy. His eyes, those of a leader hardened by countless moons and battles, were wide with an anguish that clawed at my own soul. In them, I saw the reflection of every parent's nightmare-the death of a child, even one shrouded in secrecy and ...