The council chamber had not cooled since Roland’s storming exit. If anything, the air was hotter now, thick with the scent of fear and simmering rage. Wolves lingered in clusters, their voices hushed but sharp, their gazes darting to Bella as though she carried fire in her veins—and perhaps she did.

Alfred sat rigid at the head of the table, his hands braced against the scarred oak surface. The weight of his authority radiated outward, but even his aura could not crush the ripple of ...