The council chamber had not changed in centuries.
Stone benches worn smooth by generations of judgment. Iron sconces breathing low fire. The old circle—where Alphas were crowned, broken, or quietly erased.
Alessandro stood alone at its center.
That, in itself, was an accusation.
The elders did not rush him. They never did. Silence was how they tested weakness—how they invited it to reveal itself.
Alessandro felt it immediately.
Not fear.
Pressure.
The bond stirred uneasily, like something listening through a wall.
"Speak," Elder Romano finally said, voice thin and dry as parchment. "Or do you require permission now?"
A few elders shifted. Not agreement. Interest.
Alessandro lifted his chin. "I was summoned."
Elder Bellini scoffed. "Don't play the obedient bastard with us. You haven't been obedient in weeks."
A murmur rippled the stone.
Alessandro's jaw tightened. "If this is about security protocols—"
