Betty's POV. 

The council chamber had felt like a cage of its own—voices rising and falling in heated debate while my mate remained gods-knew-where. 

Every minute wasted arguing was another minute Damien could be bleeding out, captured, or worse.

"The Luna cannot go," the Councilwoman had insisted, her jowls quivering with indignation. "It's precisely what our enemies want—to draw out our leadership and strike."

"And what do you suggest?" My voice had come out sharper than ...