🔹THORNE
My grandmother's one seeing eye speared me from where she sat. "You have to keep her. Alive."
I bit back a retort. Anything that had to do with the daughter of High Gamma Morgana filled me instantly with rage so visceral it threatened to choke me.
"Alive?" Zeta Kael snarled from across the war table, his scarred face twisting with disgust. "You want us to shelter that thing while our people rot in the allied Packs' mines and dungeons? While they dig silver from the mines with their bare hands, bleeding out their lives so the Allied Packs can grow fat and rich?"
"She's leverage," my grandmother said, her voice flat and final. "The Silvermoth—"
"Is a lie," Zeta Riven interrupted, slamming his fist on the table hard enough to make the wood crack. "A trick. Wolf magic designed to swindle us into thinking she's something she's not."
