The 'Druid's Tower' gloomed in darkness, save for the flickering torches that barely lit it. And housed at the center of a rotunda in the Druid's Tower, was a very large wooden grey table known as 'The Council' (with the alphas of the different packs in Michigan seated about it). 
For generations, serious matters had been brought and settled before The Council. But was it the case of this present matter? 
A mischievous werewolf had killed not one, not two but three alpha werewolves, leaving the council wondering what he might decide to do with the amount of power he has gained.

Werewolves Of Bloomfield Hills

Bale paced about the druid's office with his hands clasped behind his back. His face creased with worry as he pondered over what Hendell had told him. It burdened him to know that perhaps, he was the only one thinking straight in The Council. True everyone was freaked out by the pressure on them, but it was no excuse for them to gamble with their fates or to start taking advice from Canaan, a man whom he knew was pro-war. As the Zeta of The Council's Army, it was pretty obvious Canaan would suggest what was best for him, so they had to be careful with the decisions they made because it wouldn't matter which side they were on (Council or Resistance) if, at the end of the day, they were going to disobey the Paranormal Bureau. So coming to that conclusion, Bale decided to confront the zeta himself. 


"You know what, Hendell, why don't you just FaceTime Canaan, let me speak to him myself," he told the druid, turning his attention back to his seat. 


Chapter 24