The sheer weight of Elena’s confession slammed into the amphitheater, suffocating the last remnants of the Southern Syndicate’s dignity. The silence that followed her manic laughter was not born of shock, but of absolute, horrified disgust.

Serafina didn't look at Julian. She didn't look at Elena.

Kaelen’s jaw tightened. Every protective instinct in his Northern blood screamed at him to push her behind him, to rip Julian’s throat out and shield her from even a drop of blood. He had spent the last five years agonizing over his failure to protect her. The urge to be her executioner was overwhel

The aftermath of the Summit was a blur of bureaucratic chaos, but Serafina stood in the eye of the storm, perfectly untouched. The Southern Elders scrambled to appoint a provisional council now that the Graves bloodline was officially disgraced, but none of it mattered to her anymore. The South was