Lucas strode into the dimly lit conference room like a storm wrapped in human skin; raw power, barely contained fury, and the distinct impression that if anyone so much as breathed wrong, they'd find themselves missing a few teeth. Kade followed close behind but wisely stopped at the entrance, adopting the stance of a silent observer.
The council members sat before him. Two of them, Elder Malrik and Elder Thalric, bore the creased faces of men who had seen decades of war, diplomacy, and power struggles. The third, Vaelin, was younger, eager, and was the only one of them stupid enough to think he had the audacity to challenge Lucas.
Lucas didn't sit. Sitting implied conversation. Sitting implied patience. And patience was a luxury he wasn't willing to extend tonight. Instead, he stood, feet planted, arms crossed, his blue eyes cold as steel.
"This better be important," he growled. His voice carried the weight of someone who wasn't in the mood for bureaucracy.
