The pack manager clawed desperately at Preston’s cloak, his voice cracking with a coward’s humility. “Please, Beta, I must understand! How have I slighted the Alpha? Today, for this trap, I betrayed my own Syndicate and risked my rank, all for the glory of the Montgomerys!”

Preston looked down at him with pure loathing. “Had you kept your muzzle shut tonight, perhaps you would have kept your head. But hearing your filth—calling a high-born mate a plaything—I think you’ve earned the silver. You fail to see your transgression. You’ve insulted someone far more dangerous than the Alpha.”

The manager would likely never grasp the truth. The individual Preston referred to...