The council chamber felt colder than the night outside.
Stone walls held centuries of decisions—some wise, some ruinous—and tonight they seemed to listen.
Alessandro stood at the head of the long table, hands braced against polished wood. Luca occupied his right, silent and coiled like a blade waiting its moment. Marco sat opposite them, immaculate as ever in dark tailored suit, human composure set against wolf tension like flint against steel.
Elara remained near the far window, not officially seated, yet undeniably central.
Marco broke the silence first.
"This is no longer a territorial irritation."
His voice carried no raised volume, only sharpened precision.
"This is campaign staging."
Luca's jaw shifted faintly.
"Yes."
Alessandro did not look away from the map.
"Continue."
Marco tapped a small device, projecting satellite imagery across the table's embedded screen. Forest corridors glowed faintly under thermal mapping.
