Chapter 36 · The Shredded Treaty

The wax was still soft when Vane’s boot smashedthrough the table.

I heard the crack before I understood it. Pine splitting. The ink pot tipping. Black ink bleeding across the treaty where thirty-one signatures were still drying.

“Nobody move.” Vane didn’t raise his voice. He never did. That was the worst thing about him—he could set your world on fire inthe same tone other men used to talk about the weather. “This is a family matter. I’d hate for the border lordsto get blood on their nice coats.”

Eleven border alphas sat along the courtyard wall, perched on the chairs I’d insistedon bringing out myself. Not one of them moved.

Four days. I’d spent four days listening to thesemen call me a whore at the tribunal, forced to play the perfect Luna, pouring wine and counting exits until my jawached. Every clause in that treaty was a leash. Every signature was a wolf who couldn’t afford to let Valerius fall.

Now, Vane had just snapped the whole thing over his knee.

“Second page,” Vane said, holding a jagged strip of parchment up to the light.