[Phreya]

The Ducati’s tires bit into the gravel of the packhouse parking lot as I pulled up, cutting the engine near the line of sleek luxury vehicles and heavy trucks. Through the ambient hum of my telepathic sense, the entire perimeter was buzzing—leaders and second-in-commands from every Inhuman clan in the territory were filing into the war room.

Shifters, Vampires, Witches, Council Elders.

I pulled off my helmet, letting my messy French braid fall down my back. As I kicked down the ...