Madison Clarke was mid-sentence when Rachel Simpson cut her off, her brow furrowed with the sharp irritation of a high-ranking wolf.

"Enough," Rachel commanded, her voice vibrating with authority. "This is a matter for the Simpson Archive alone. Even if that silent girl has overstepped the boundaries of our territory, I will not have my lineage used as a blunt instrument for your petty grudges."

Madison let out an awkward, high-pitched laugh, her scent spiking with momentary fear. "Of course, Rachel. You always were the most balanced of our cycle."

The Great Hall of the Archive was a hive of activity, thick with the musky scent of a hundred powerful...