DRAVEN
"You promised her to me, Morgana." His voice was low enough to make my spine straighten, eyes had gone pitch black—including the whites. "You promised you'd conditioned her. Are you certain you branded her like the others? I can't find her." His brows were drawn as if he was trying to focus, reaching for something that I couldn't see.
A chill raked through me.
We had convened in the High Alpha's chambers for this meeting. His quarters were just like him—dark and dreary, with an edge of elegant flamboyance that made the space feel dangerous rather than refined. Heavy drapes blocked most of the light, and what little remained caught on gilt-edged furniture that looked more like traps than comfort.
I stood near the window, trying to appear attentive while keeping my distance from the conversation. Watching. Waiting.
