Damon’s POV

I learned to read the room like a battlefield: small shifts, held breaths, hand movements. Tonight, the room smelled of pipe smoke, old leather, and tension that could snap a neck. I sat at the head of the table, back straight, jaw tight, carrying the weight of the pack like an unremovable coat.

My Beta, Rowan, sat to my right...broad-shouldered, grey-streaked hair, eyes that seemed to measure everything. He tapped his finger when thinking; tonight, he tapped so hard his knuckles ...