The grand ballroom of the Obsidian Packhouse was a sea of nervous murmurs and frantic whispers.

Just twenty minutes ago, the gala had been a triumphant display of Kaelen's supposed wealth. The crystal chandeliers had sparkled, the champagne had flowed freely, and the region's wealthiest investors

The silence in the grand ballroom was absolute, heavy enough to crush bone. Hundreds of backs remained rigidly turned toward the landing where Kaelen Cross knelt. It was the ultimate, ancient gesture of Lycan rejection. To be shunned by one’s own pack was a fate worse than execution; it was a total

The silence of the master bedroom was a stark contrast to the chaotic aftermath of the ballroom below. For five years, this sprawling, opulent suite had been Seraphina’s prison. Kaelen had decorated it in dark, heavy tones—obsidian marble, charcoal silks, and silver accents—all designed to reflect h