Elena’s POV

The square was suffocating with noise — flashes popping, reporters shouting over one another, Stella clutching Damien’s arm like a heroine shielding her Alpha.

But when I looked past the crowd, past Damien’s cold eyes, I saw Elder Hayes. He stood at the far edge of the stage, arms folded, gaze like a blade.

Behind him, Margaret clutched her handbag with pale knuckles, Beta Hayes standing at her side like a reluctant sentinel. Their presence was more than ...