Chapter 90: The Council Cracks
The ancient Hollowfang council chamber was a cathedral of stone and secrecy, carved into the heart of the mountain centuries ago. Its walls whispered old truths, draped with timeworn banners from fallen Alpha lines. A cold draft moved through the high arches like a warning, brushing over the weathered faces of the council members seated in their crescent formation.
Rhett entered in silence.
The doors thundered shut behind him, echoing off the stone like a war drum. He moved with purpose, his broad shoulders squared beneath the heavy black coat of his bloodline. Eyes followed him. Some with reverence. Some with loathing. His steps did not falter.
At the far end, seated like a shadow carved from obsidian, Sterling Callahan tilted his head.
"You’re late," the old Alpha said coolly.
"I’m not here for tradition. I’m here for truth."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
Sterling leaned forward, his silver hair catching the light like a blade. "You forget your place."
"No," Rhett replied. "I’m finally claiming it."
He stepped into the center of the stone floor, where once ancestors had knelt in submission or risen in glory. He didn’t kneel.
"The bloodline speaks through me now. And the Luna flame is rising. You’re holding onto a crown forged in fear."