Chapter 27 · Ivy's Stolen Crown

The pack house smelled like smoke and blood and about two hundred wolves who didn't know who to look at.

Lila stood at the back of the main hall, her palms still sticky from the silver bars. Every wolf in Duskridge was crammed in here. Ivy had called an emergency assembly five minutes after her little broadcast, and nobody was stupid enough to skip it.

Cain was up front. Still alive. Still standing.

He wasn't in the cage anymore. Two of Ivy's cousins flanked him instead, hands on his shoulders like he might bolt. He looked like hell. Burns up both forearms, shirt torn, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. But his eyes found Lila's across the crowd and held.

She felt the bond pull. Sharp. Hungry.

He was pissed.

Ivy stood on the raised platform where the Alpha's chair used to be—someone had dragged it off to the side like trash. She wore white. Full-length dress, hair pinned up, the Duskridge luna's mourning bracelet on her wrist even though nobody was dead yet. She looked like she'd been planning this outfit for months.

"Most of you heard the broadcast," Ivy said. Her voice carried. Calm. Respectful.