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CHAPTER 493
~Snow's POV~
Alpha Zeno, the Western Alpha, stepped into the chamber without fanfare. No entourage. No polished display of rank.
He wore simple black trousers, a fitted charcoal jacket over a dark tee, and well-worn boots that spoke more of utility than fashion. There were no crests, sigils, or needs.
Zeno didn't need to wear his authority—it followed him naturally. The kind of presence that turned heads without a word.
Clean-shaven, hazel green eyes, red hair that screamed, danger and built like he handled things himself instead of delegating them away.
The quiet type of Alpha who didn't have to raise his voice or need gold and symbols to be respected.
His dark eyes swept over the gathering, then landed on me. He nodded once—cool, respectful, and as always, completely unreadable.
"Alpha Snow," he greeted, nodding once. "Draven."
