The great hall of the Moonshadow council was older than the pack house itself. Stone columns stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, carved with runes so ancient even the elders argued over their meaning. At the center stood a long, polished table, its surface scarred with centuries of debate, betrayal, and uneasy truces.

Bella had never stepped inside before. Now, as Alfred led her past the open doors, she felt the weight of every gaze pressing into her bones. The chamber was filled—elders in ...