Author’s POV

Patrick entered the hall built by his grandfather, a place meant for order, not the chaos waiting for him. The air carried the stale smell of grief, fear, resentment, and anger. His father’s death had come fast, too fast for anyone to prepare, and in the space left behind, the chain of command snapped like an old rope.

Half the pack stood on one side of the room. The other half squeezed together behind Dorian, his father’s cousin, the man who had pushed himself into the Alpha’s chair before the ashes had cooled on the funeral pyre. Patrick didn’t look at the chair. The sight of Dorian sitting...