Grace POV

The Council chamber swallows sound.

Five Elders sit on the high platform, elevated like judges at trial. The wood beneath them is old—dark, polished, carved with symbols I don't recognize. Their robes are formal, ceremonial. The kind of clothing that screams authority.

My throat tightens.

The Elder in the middle—silver hair, strong jawline, eyes like Ethan's—wears a faint smile. Alpha Laf. Ethan's grandfather. The only face here that doesn't look at me ...