"Well..." Nikolai leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His claws tapped against the polished surface, slow, deliberate, the scrape of keratin against wood grating through the silence. His black eyes glittered as he studied Loric like a wolf sniffing out a trap.
"You want me to leash myself, in exchange for a beaten pup?" His lip curled into a faint grin. "That's not restraint, that's charity. And I don't do charity."
Loric's expression didn't shift. If anything, the faintest smile tugged at his lips, though it didn't touch his cold silver eyes. "Not charity, Patriarch. Survival. The Silver Clan will stand again, and I prefer that it stands beside Volkov, not against it. Your father showed mercy. I am offering to do the same, though from a different seat."
The room stirred.
An Elder growled under his breath, but Loric raised a single finger, silencing him.
