A Seat at the Alpha's Table

VANESSA

The Summit Hall fell silent as I stepped inside, all eyes turning to me. I held my chin high despite the knot of anxiety in my stomach. The massive mahogany table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by the most powerful werewolves in the region—and one conspicuously empty seat meant for my brother.

"Ms. West," Alpha Prescott acknowledged, his silver-streaked beard moving as he spoke. "We expected Alpha West to represent the Moonstone Pack today."

"My brother sends his apologies," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "He was unavoidably detained. I'll be representing our pack's interests today."

Murmurs rippled around the table. I caught Roman's gaze from across the room, his golden-brown eyes revealing nothing. The memory of our disastrous press conference last week burned fresh in my mind—standing stiffly beside him as reporters peppered us with questions about our "relationship status." The headlines the next day had been brutal.