Keith

The council hall is too small for this many predators.

Even in human skin, we radiate teeth.

I sit at the head of the long oak table, hands braced against the wood, and feel the weight of every gaze in the room. Riven stands near the far window, shoulders rigid, as if he could outrun what we’re about to decide. Jeb leans back with forced ease, boots crossed. Silas and Thorne flank the door like carved sentinels. Damon’s fingers drum once against the table before stilling. Xavior watches everyone and no one, calculating.

At my right sits Tessa, chin lifted. Beside her, Elena and her mate, all quiet grace...