DAMON POINT OF VIEW

The chamber was quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against the walls and seeped into your bones. I sat at the edge of my bed, fingers tapping lightly against the polished wood of the armrest. Outside, the pack moved as usual, unaware of the threads I was pulling in the shadows, the plans I was making. The air was thick with strategy, with control, with the knowledge that power is measured in actions, not words.

A knock at the door broke the rhythm of my thoughts. Not ...