Danika was on her knees in the center of the throne hall. Her hair was disheveled and clothe dusty from being dragged across the floor.
Her face was blank but her eyes burned with something Damien couldn't name. It wasn't fear neither was it guilt. There was no defiance in her posture, only silence. A heavy and bitter silence that lingered in his mind.
She wasn't speaking anymore or defending herself ever since it was exposed she had packed her things ready to leave the pack.
He stood at the highest step of the dais, not seated or speaking but only watching. His jaw was hard, clenched so tight his teeth ached. His fingers twitched at his sides. And his chest rose and fell slowly and carefully.
He had to stay calm. He had to keep his wolf from bursting free.
The throne hall, usually silent and reverent now boiled with whispers, stifled gasps, and accusing glares.
The crown…
