Torches danced along the stone walls, reflecting the faces of hundreds of Ashmoore's cadets and commanders lined in ranks. The sound of boots echoed as Baron Ortega was dragged in - wrists bound, head held high.

He was bruised, blood still on his jaw, but his green eyes burned cold.

At the far end of the court, upon the raised dais, stood Supreme Alpha Ortiz Ortega, his cloak heavy with silver chains, his fury barely contained.

The guards shoved Baron to his knees. The cadets ...