#Chapter 31: What We Don’t Say

I stood at the head of the estate’s smaller council hall, sunlight cutting across the stone floor in bright strips. The windows were old and leaded, warping the light into odd shapes that stretched across the chairs and the scuffed table we’d pushed to the front. Three minor pack leaders sat in a loose semicircle in front of me, each of them looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. Dario, the youngest, kept tapping his knee like he was trying to kick a habit. Clara of Low Pine, gray-streaked, blazer fraying at the cuffs, had a face carved from years of gritted teeth. Vaughn, the last, leaned on a cane and looked like he hadn’t smiled since before the last Alpha election. Still, they’d come. I cleared my throat. “This is a space to say what you feel hasn’t been heard. Say what you need, in whatever way you need to say it. I’m not here to justify bad policy—I’m here to change it.” Clara went first. Her voice had a burr to it, like she’d spent too many winters smoking cheap