"He's lost control!" one male barked. "The girl is a danger to us all!"
"She's his sister!" another growled. "And she's still one of us."
"If Rhett won't make the hard choices, we're all at risk."
"Careful," came a quieter voice. "You're not just speaking against Camille."
Magnolia's stomach twisted as she scanned the sea of faces, wolves she had lived among, eaten with, fought beside. Some she once trusted now stood with narrowed eyes, whispering behind gloved hands. The Elder's influence was spreading like rot.
She saw Beckett among them, shoulders tense, jaw tight. He wasn't speaking, but his eyes flicked constantly between the arguing wolves, calculating.
The murmuring fractured into sharper voices when Rhett finally strode into the courtyard.
He wore his authority like iron, broad shoulders squared, dark coat snapping behind him with each long stride. His storm-gray eyes swept over the pack. No hesitation. No fear.
