Grant Lawson’s voice cut through the room like a jagged shard of ice. "Sophia, you wail as if you are the only one standing vigil by the Alpha’s bedside. Aside from coming here daily to scent the air with your fake grief and agitate the healers, what have you actually contributed to this pack’s recovery?"

The theatrical sobbing stopped instantly. Sophia’s face flushed a deep, embarrassed crimson beneath her hood.

"Grant!" Jerome croaked, his voice weak but stern. The effort of speaking triggered a harsh coughing fit, his chest heaving under the heavy furs.

Sophia lunged forward to steady him, her hands clawing at his blankets, but the old Alpha...