Page 110 of Unveiled

Connor stood in the dining hall, looking over the people gathered there. He felt a sense of pride at them all, two packs, but one with him and Adrian in their loyalty and strength. Well, most of them. Some were scared beyond the bond of clanship. Others, like Garrett, simply sneered their way through it all.

Adrian sat beside him, his breath uneven, the mark beneath his shirt glowing like a star that refused to die quietly.

Max stood behind Adrian with a hand on the back of his chair, a silent guardian. Fraser mirrored him behind Connor, his arms folded tightly. Moira hovered near the tea service like a general guarding medical supplies.

Tension thrummed like a nerve. Finally, Connor slammed a palm on the table. “We start now.”

All the clan members fell silent.

Xiathen rose, his robes whispering. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice.”

A humourless snort came from one of the Gauthiers. “Not like we had much choice.”

Connor’s gaze snapped at the speaker, Laurence, and the man shut his mouth instantly.

Xiathen continued. “The valley is destabilising. The Council of Veils has placed anchors throughout the land, using fault lines to weaken the barrier between our world and his.”

“And they’ve marked my First,” Max said darkly, nodding at Adrian. “Let’s not pretend that isn’t the main bloody problem.”

Adrian’s fingers dug into the chair. He opened his mouth to reply, but Connor beat him to it.

“The main problem,” Connor growled, “is the bastards threatening to tear open the valley unless we hand Adrian over.”

A ripple of dread passed through the room.

Piper, sitting rigid beside Max, pressed a hand to her chest. “They can’t possibly expect—”

“They do,” Xiathen said quietly. “They always demand what they believe is owed.”

“And what they believe is owed,” Irial said, her voice shaking, “is him.”

Everyone looked at Adrian.

Adrian swallowed. “I didn’t ask to be marked. I didn’t want this. I’m trying—”

The table shook. Connor’s wolf surged. His voice cut across Adrian’s. “He’s not to blame.”

The words hit the room with the force of a blow. The mark throbbed on Adrian’s skin, answering Connor before Adrian could.

Across the table, Laird whispered, “Gods. It glows when Connor speaks.”

Xiathen cleared his throat delicately. “It would appear the bond between the Valours is more active than it should be.”

Connor ignored that. “For the sake of clarity,” he snapped, “no one is handing Adrian to the Council.”

“You don’t get to decide that for all of us,” Laurence said, his voice rising toward panic. “You can’t doom the entire valley because you have some attachment—”

Connor moved in a blur of fury. One moment he was on his side of the table, the next he was inches from Laurence, the chair knocked aside, his wolf snarling.

“Finish that sentence,” Connor bit out, “and I’ll teach you the meaning of silence.”

“Connor,” Adrian said, standing and grabbing Connor’s arm. “He has a right to speak. People have the right to be afraid.”

Slowly, Connor’s wolf receded. Silence rang in the chamber as he stepped back, his muscles tight and his breath hard.

Fraser muttered, “Bloody hell.”

Xiathen lifted his hands. “Let us regain structure. We can’t afford infighting. The Council’s deadline is approaching.”