The entire room erupted into chaos. People shouted angrily, hurling obscenities and threats. They called me a monster, a beast that needed to be put down. While their words bounced off me, their emotions burned and slashed at my psyche. Amidst the chaos, some remained quiet and stoic, like the golden-haired couple.
As the shouting continued, guards emerged from the crowd, blending in before moving to the center of the room. They stood around the High Table and the section where my family and I were seated. I was surprised to see us included in their protection.
During this turmoil, Nick Fox chose his moment to arrive. The oak doors swung open, but his entrance did little to calm the manic witnesses. Maverick Billford, sitting above it all, watched the chaos unfold like an unruly god, poised and serene, unwilling to intervene.
It was Carlos Caddel who finally acted. He stood and slammed his hands on the table, causing the pressing crowd to flinch back. Even I took a step back as his emotions registered with me, searing hot like flames. His irritation and anger washed over me, his eyes meeting mine with frustration.
“Enough,” he said, his voice quiet yet heard by everyone. As whispers persisted, he lifted his head and scanned the room, muscles tensing beneath his leather jacket. He found the two offenders and speared them with his gaze. “I said enough.”
The room fell silent, everyone cowering, except Kieran, who seemed intrigued by Carlos’s outburst. As Carlos slowly sat down, the remnants of his anger lingered like a harsh sunburn. I wanted to thank him for quieting the room, but my attention was drawn to Nick Fox.
Nick, a near replica of his father Arnold, had auburn hair and a stocky build, but his eyes were hazel. His confidence and satisfaction radiated as he sauntered into the room, cool and collected. He walked to the center, meeting my eyes briefly, causing a flash of guilt to surge through me.
Nick greeted each member of the High Table: Maverick played the respectful businessman, Damion was polite but robotic, Carlos remained uninterested, and Griffin seethed with fury.
“It seems things became quite heated,” Nick remarked with a haughty smirk, provoking a snarl from Griffin.
“Yes, well, it’s in our nature, is it not?” Maverick replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. Maverick then announced, “Nick Fox, eldest son of Arnold, will now temporarily take a seat at the High Table.”
Once seated, Nick addressed the crowd, his eyes landing on me. “My father feels the same as many of you,” he began, his earthy eyes fixed on me. “This she-wolf, we know so little about her. Facts are easy to come by, but who is this girl? Can she handle a power that brings all men to their knees? My father has served as a warrior and protector of his pack for a decade now and will continue to protect us, even if those battles might take place in the future.”
His words made my stomach drop. Nick Fox was clearly not on our side. As I processed this, a man dressed casually in a black button-down and slacks caught my eye. He moved swiftly through the crowd, approaching Maverick Billford and dropping a notecard in front of him before disappearing.
Curious, I watched as Maverick slipped the card into his pocket, his demeanor unchanged. However, a brief flicker in his eyes and a twitch of his fingers betrayed his impatience. Maverick stood and addressed the crowd, his movements slow and deliberate.
“The duties of an Alpha are never-ending and often not nearly as entertaining as one might hope,” he said, eliciting polite laughter from the crowd. “I have urgent business that calls me away, but it will not keep me from our final meeting tomorrow, where we hope to resolve this issue. Perhaps, Arnold Fox will return when I do. Until then, this meeting is adjourned.”
With that, the crowd began to disperse, leaving me to ponder the day’s events and the uncertain future that lay ahead.
“What was on that notecard that made him scurry out of here so fast?” Kieran whispered in my ear as we followed his parents out of the council room.
The council room led into a grand foyer adorned with a crystal chandelier half the size of a car. Rows of elevators flanked the sides, and the room buzzed with Alphas and Lunas. It wasn’t always safe to share an elevator with strangers in such settings. Many of the attendees were dispersing to the hotel restaurant or a nearby bar.
“Why am I not surprised you noticed that too,” I chuckled softly, my hands resting on the smooth material of his button-down. But the weight of recent events quickly sobered us both. “I have no clue what could have been on that notecard. Whatever it was, it caused a crack in his self-control. Maverick Billford manages his emotions so well that I can’t usually detect them. This crack allowed me a glimpse.”
“If it made him crack, it must be important,” Kieran grunted thoughtfully. “Information like that could be crucial to know why Maverick Billford hurried away.”
“I might ask Carlos about it, but who knows if he’d have any idea,” I replied with a shrug, then thought of Zack. “Or we could try… you know who, but I doubt he’d be willing to help us.”
Kieran’s response was lost in the wind as something else caught my attention. The golden-haired Alpha and Luna were emerging from the council room, flanked by their four guards.
“I want to talk to them,” I murmured to Kieran, slipping past him and hurrying after the Alpha and Luna.
Their emotions were steady, like the sun about to break through a storm cloud. “Excuse me!” I called out, navigating through the dispersing crowd. I kept a respectful distance, not wanting to come off as threatening, though the older couple seemed surprised that I approached them.
The woman turned first, narrowing her eyes until recognition softened her expression into anticipation. It was odd to sense her emotions shift in real-time, as though she already knew me and anticipated this conversation.
“Come, Sophia. I will not speak in front of these people,” the golden-haired woman said with a delicately accented voice, warm yet with an underlying intensity that could set the world ablaze. She gestured for us to follow as she and her mate resumed walking towards the elevators. “You may bring your mate. Now, come.”
“You sure about this, sweetheart?” Kieran whispered to me as we followed.
We watched as the couple pressed the elevator button and stepped inside. I had a fleeting moment to decide whether to join them before the doors closed, sealing off two people who seemed to see beyond the facade.
“I’m not sure, but I need to talk to them,” I admitted with a sheepish grin and hurried after them.
“You trust the High Table enough to step into their domain, but not us?” the man remarked with a sour tone, more offended than malicious, his glare directed at the council room.
“She doesn’t trust the High Table, Peter,” the woman corrected gently, patting his hand. “She’s wise to trust only those she brings at her side. Now, calm yourself, and let us talk.”
Peter fell silent as the eight of us rode the elevator up. He swiped a keycard, and the doors opened to reveal their suite, which mirrored mine and Kieran’s. Knowing I wasn’t receiving special treatment here eased some of my unease. The opulence felt familiar but distant compared to the simplicity of the twins’ house.
“You’re safe to speak here,” the woman, Louis, assured us as she closed and locked the door behind us. She went to the kitchen and retrieved two wine glasses, occasionally casting a glance at Kieran and me as she spoke. “You can call me Louis. You’re as safe here as in your own suite. We keep guards posted and check for bugs daily.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” Kieran asked, prompting Peter to reply instantly.
“Don’t you?” Peter snorted, his accent adding an almost comical edge to his irritation. “The High Table are like children fighting over shiny toys. They destroy packs, families, lives-all for the latest trinket. Then they stuff platitudes about preserving our species down your throat until you’re gagging on their-”
“Peter, please,” Louis interrupted softly, running her fingers through his hair. Some tension eased from his shoulders, and I instinctively sought the same comfort from Kieran. “You’re too stressed lately.”
“When you were talking about the High Table, were you speaking from personal experience?” I ventured boldly, sensing that Peter and Louis might appreciate such directness.
Both of them stilled, assessing what to disclose and gauging how much I might already know. Opting for a different approach, I hardened my voice, hoping they’d see my determination and the urgency for change coursing through me.
“I’m here fighting for my right to live, proving I deserve to live just like everyone else,” I asserted, feeling my own anger swell. No one should have to prove their right to live-it was a birthright. “If anyone understands hating the High Table, it’s me.”
“What many feel goes beyond hate. Once it festers and grows, it becomes a disease that traps you,” Peter growled under his breath. As he saw the same resolve burning in my eyes that mirrored his own, the last of his resistance crumbled. “The High Table wasn’t always like this. There was a time of justice, when we thrived among humans, not overtaking their cities.”
“But your kind wasn’t hunted back then,” Louis added firmly, her voice matching her mate’s strength. “There are just as many of you now, but look what happens to most of them.”
“Maverick,” I nodded, seeing approval in her eyes. She was weighing what I knew while sharing some of their own story. It was a mutual exchange, a beginning of trust. Was this how alliances were forged?
“You’re not as ignorant as many of our kind,” Louis stated sharply, her anger surfacing for the first time. “He hides behind smiles and pretty words, but there’s no beauty inside, only decay.”
“My wife has more reason than most to despise Maverick Billford,” Peter added, taking Louis’s hand and pulling her to sit beside him on the couch.
“It was a long time ago. Much has changed, and much for the worse,” Louis sighed, locking eyes with me. “If you want to fight Maverick Billford, you need to understand what you’re up against.”
“Are you sure about this, Louis?” Peter asked quietly, his gaze flicking between Kieran and me. His voice softened, though we could still hear every word. “You don’t need to reopen old wounds for them. I won’t see you in pain. I’ll tell them what they need to know while you’re out of the room.”
“Dearest, you’ve always protected me,” Louis smiled fondly, cupping his face in her hands. Peter looked older now, no longer the young Alpha, as he gazed at the woman who had become his world. “But sometimes, I must be strong. I’ve made mistakes before, but I’ll learn from them, Peter. I’ll listen to my sister’s advice.”
Peter smiled sadly, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I protect you because even now, I can’t bear to see you in pain. I’ll shoulder it all if it means you remain free.”
“I will never be free, Peter. Not until they are all free,” Louis said softly, and Peter nodded, as if this were a familiar pledge between them.
“Tell them your story, Louis,” Peter urged gently, his smile small but reserved solely for her.
“Let Lara live and breathe through your words.”
“When I was fourteen, Maverick Billford ascended to the third seat on the High Table. His father barely won the position, and with it, our land was surrendered to the Billford family. Maverick’s father ruled for five years before passing away, and then Maverick took over. Two years later, Maverick Billford visited my pack,” Louis recounted, a dry laugh escaping her, her eyes filling with unshed tears she refused to let fall. “Our pack was significant and had occasionally drawn attention from the High Table, but never had they visited us. My father was the beta, and his childhood friend had become our Alpha. It was picturesque, until Maverick arrived. We didn’t realize it then, but he was searching for something. He spent two years searching while the other High Table members remained clueless. He was searching for white wolves.”
“Maverick has held the head position for eight years now. He held the third seat for the first two,” Peter added, reclining on the couch with one leg crossed over his lap.
“So he jumped from the third seat to head of the High Table,” I remarked, a nagging suspicion gnawing at me. “How did he manage that? Shouldn’t it be difficult?”
“It’s incredibly difficult. You have to expand your own pack and territory, which often means absorbing smaller packs. It’s delicate, though, because many of those smaller packs have alliances with other High Table members-you don’t want to alienate your peers,” Peter explained with a shake of his head.
“Maverick Billford ascended to head shortly after leaving my pack with what he sought,” Louis said bitterly, her seafoam eyes darkening to navy. “My little sister, Lara. She was always special, prone to nighttime fits-thrashing, screaming, and then falling back asleep. Until one night, she didn’t. She started speaking, saying strange things that made no sense. We didn’t realize she was an oracle, her white wolf ability emerging. She grew into it over the years. The last time I saw her was when she was thirteen, and Maverick Billford was escorting her away.”
“Your sister was an oracle?” I asked in awe. The ability sounded daunting, but being called an oracle rather than a ‘soul-eater’ carried a certain dignity.
“She could see the future? How did that work?” I pressed further.
“It was hard on her as a child, burdened with such responsibility. It robbed her of much of the magic and joy of childhood. She coped as best she could; some days were better than others,” Louis confessed, a hint of longing in her gaze. Her grief, even after all this time, remained raw, close to the surface. She carried it with her, naming it in every waking moment.