The grand hall is a storm of voices, low murmurs blending with sharp, deliberate tones.
The alphas are gathered, their presence heavy with authority, their eyes flickering with a mix of wariness and expectation.
Some lean forward, their hands resting on the long wooden table, while others sit rigidly in their seats, expressions unreadable.
Kieran stands at the head of the room, posture straight, presence commanding.
Yet his focus is scattered, fragmented by the weight of too many thoughts pressing in at once.
He had started speaking, something about Rehan, about judgment, about the future, but the words falter, slipping from his grasp like sand through clenched fingers when Ace walks in.
All his attention turns to Ace.
Ace moves through the room with quiet poise, his gaze scanning the gathered alphas, taking in the tension, the barely restrained aggression simmering beneath the surface.