Julian Graves paced the length of his ruined office, his heavy boots crunching over the shattered glass that still littered the floor. The East Wing of the estate was a smoldering, blackened skeleton, a glaring monument to his humiliation. The scent of ash and scorched mahogany hung heavy in the air

The Obsidian Citadel was a monument to ancient Lycanthrope law, a colossal amphitheater carved directly into the black volcanic rock of the neutral territories. Its towering pillars were wrapped in centuries of ivy, and the circular seating arrangement was designed to ensure that no Alpha, no matter

The tension in the Obsidian Citadel was so thick it could have been sliced with a silver blade. The murmurs of the Southern elites died in their throats as Serafina stood in the dead center of the amphitheater. The absolute stillness of her posture was unnatural. She was a woman who had just had her