The fire in the council chamber crackled low, casting long, flickering shadows across the stone walls.
It was late, too late for a formal meeting, but Uther hadn't summoned them for official business.
The three older guards who sat around the table had once served Xaden's father. They were loyal to the pack, but loyalty could bend when fed enough fear, uncertainty, and ambition.
Uther poured himself a drink from the glass decanter and then gestured at the others. "Drink, brothers. The night is long and heavy."
One of the elders, Bryn, took a cautious sip. He was gray-bearded and slow-moving these days, but still sharp when it counted.
"You said this wasn't official business, Uther. So, why the secrecy?"
Uther leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid. "Because these are uncertain times, old friend. Our Alpha is missing. His blood on the trail, no word for days. The people are beginning to ask questions."
The men shifted, uneasy.
