Alpha Rolan’s POV

The council chamber has always been a heavy, oppressive space, with its grand, oak-paneled walls and dimmed lighting casting long shadows across the room.

The air was thick with tension, and the murmurs of the councilmen echoed off the cold stone.

I sat at the head of the long table, my posture rigid and my mind alert. They had called this meeting to confront me, and I could feel their judgment like a mere breeze pushing against an oak tree.

“I must say, Alpha Rolan,” one of the elder councilmen began, his voice laced with a condescending tone, “You have grown soft. The harshness and the strength...