Alpha Griffin of Stormclaw Pack was the last, and the worst.

Old school. Sixty something.

Gray beard, barrel chest, eyes that had been cold for so long they'd forgotten any other temperature.

He didn't send a representative.

He came himself, which meant he had something to say that he wanted to say to my face.

He brought two enforcers.

I let them stay.

Valtherion was already in the room, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, his expression carved from granite.

Griffin didn't sit. Didn't extend courtesies.

"You know why I'm here."

"Enlighten me."

"The Purifiers attacked you. Not a random border pack. You, specifically. Because of what...