Chapter 187: Confronting Brackham
Draven.
I sat behind my wide oak desk, the polished surface catching threads of pale morning light that crept in through tall windows.
The air in my study smelled faintly of old parchment, leather bindings, and the sharp tang of ink.
But beneath it, there was something else: the simmer of rage I’d been forcing myself to keep contained.
I didn’t even have the appetite to eat properly earlier, as I usually did in my mornings—all because of this fucking hell hole called Duskmoor.
Jeffery stood across from me, holding out a thin sheaf of papers. A list of our people—wolves I had sworn to protect—who had nearly vanished off the face of this cursed city because of humans who thought they could hunt us like cattle.
I took the pages from him, the weight of the thin stack feeling far heavier than it looked. Each line told a story: an alley, a public restroom, a cab ride that nearly ended in chains.
My thumb pressed into the paper as I scanned the familiar names, jaw clenching tighter with every testimony.
"Scan them," I ordered, voice low and controlled despite the burn in my chest. "And send the file to Brackham."
"Yes, Alpha," Jeffery said without hesitation.
He moved to the side of the room where the scanner sat. The quiet hum filled the silence—a small, mechanical noise against the heavy quiet of the study.
Through the tall windows, I caught sight of the courtyard below: stone, shadow, and the faint silhouettes of our guards changing shifts.