"The Omega’s heart is as black as her wolf is weak," a high-born female sneered, her voice carrying over the crackle of the hearth.

"Truly. She bewitched the Alpha into a Mate-Contract, likely using Old Harrison’s failing mind to trap Hudson into the bond," another whispered, swirling a glass of fermented lunar nectar.

"Her scent was all over the pack-link for weeks—the 'Mute Outcast'—and then, silence. A Northern Prince must be scrubbing her trail."

"And now she slinks into the Simpson Archive. A dormant wolf at a High-Blood gala? She’s clutching a forged sigil. How utterly pathetic."

The biting winds of the Silver Ridge seemed warmer than the mockery stinging...