Selene's point of view

The mahogany table where the elders sat was shadowed by the gentle, golden light that flooded the room from the elaborate chandelier overhead. As I stood at the end of the room, their faces, etched with age and weighed down by years of negotiating pack politics, showed no expression.

This meeting of the council was not official. Not quite yet. I had ensured that. It was merely a friendly conversation between worried elders—a gentle prod.

With a measured tone that was tinged with just enough worry to make them lean forward, I started, "Marcus has been increasingly reckless." "This renegade raid at the docks came after...