“This is going to be tasteful,” Logan insisted, hands on his hips like a mother hen standing guard over a bomb. “Elegant. Mature. A peaceful gathering of warriors celebrating love and pack unity.”

Hunter stared at the banners being unfurled, each with cartoonish drawings of a snarling wolf kissing a moon. “Logan.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve spelled ‘ceremony’ with an ‘S’ and two Ms.”

“That’s the Shadow Fang spelling. It’s cultural.”

Troy snorted. “Since ...