The heavy iron gates didn't stay closed for long.

Two hours after dawn, a pair of burly Enforcers dragged Eva back inside the pack house.

They didn't offer her a blanket.

They didn't offer her food.

They shoved her into the absolute furthest corner of the Grand Hall, right behind a massive cedar pillar.

"Stay there, ghost," one guard growled, wiping the melting sleet from his leather vest. "Don't move. Don't breathe loud. The elite are coming."

Eva pressed her back against the rough wood of the pillar.

Her limbs were still stiff from the sub-zero frost.

But her fingers remained tightly locked inside her apron pocket, curling around the cold weight of her ancient silver token.

The space inside the Grand Hall was changing rapidly.

The long wooden banquet tables had been cleared away.

In their place, the entire Blackwood Pack elite filled the room, packing the tiers of stone benches.

Hundreds of purebred warriors.

Vanguard commanders.

Senior council elders dressed in heavy, silver-trimmed ceremonial furs.

The air inside grew suffocatingly thick, heavy with the suffocating scent of high-tier wolf pheromones, leather grease, and burning pine resin.

Then, the drums started.

A low, primal thumping that vibrated directly through the stone floor and into the soles of Eva’s boots.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The massive iron-studded oak doors at the front of the hall burst open.

Killian Vance entered.

The room went dead silent, the sound of the drums cutting off on a single, sharp beat.

Killian walked with a brutal, military precision.

A ruthless ENTJ commander radiating sheer, unyielding predatory dominance.

He wasn't wearing his formal Alpha cape.

Instead, he wore a tight, jet-black tactical compression shirt that fit like a second skin.

The fabric stretched tight across his broad, massive frame, perfectly outlining the飽滿 outline of his chest and the sharp, chiseled ridges of his upper torso.

Around his thick neck sat the broken silver thorn collar.

The fractured metal links caught the torchlight, dangling carelessly against his collarbone.

Every eye in the room tracked his movement.

He looked completely detached.

Cold.

A lethal warrior burdened by the crushing weight of pack duty.

He stepped onto the raised stone dais in the center of the hall, his heavy tactical combat boots leaving wet, dark prints on the stone.

The Chief Beta stepped forward, lifting a heavy brass staff.

"The Alpha Selection Ceremony officially begins!" the Beta's voice boomed, echoing off the high-timbered ceiling.

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, shields clattering against breastplates.

Eva watched from the dark shadow of her pillar.

Her INTJ brain silently analyzed his posture.

The slight, rigid tension in his lower jaw.

The way his fingers twitched against his thighs.

He didn't look like a man celebrating a coronation.

He looked like a wolf cornered by his own laws.

Beneath the surface, Killian’s chest rose and fell in a sharp, irregular rhythm.

His inner wolf, Thorin, was growing fiercely restless.

Eva could smell the change in his aura from across the massive room—a sudden, violent spike of ozone and wild cedar.

Thorin was thrashing inside his mind, clawing at the mental barriers Killian had spent years building.

The energy in the room was a crescendo of noise and heat.

Tanya Bennett stood at the base of the platform, her white wool dress glistening under the torchlight as she smiled up at him.

Waiting for her name to be called.

Waiting for the official Luna announcement.

Killian suddenly stopped.

His entire body went rigid on the stone dais.

His head snapped abruptly to the left, completely ignoring the Chief Beta’s ceremonial speech.

His dark gold eyes cut straight through the crowd.

Directly past the senior elders.

Directly past the rows of vanguard warriors.

He locked his gaze directly onto the dark back corner.

Straight onto Eva.

The intensity of his stare was a physical blow, his golden pupils contracting into sharp, predatory slits.

Thorin let out a low, muffled rumble that echoed slightly in Killian's throat.

Eva gripped her silver token until the metal edges cut into her palm.

She didn't look away.

Killian took a single, aggressive step off the center mark of the dais, his eyes burning into hers.

"Alpha?" the Chief Beta interrupted, his staff faltering. "The... the blood oath requires your hand on the stone, sir."

Killian didn't break eye contact with Eva.

"Bring her here," Killian commanded.

His voice wasn't a rasp anymore—it was a deep, guttural vibration that made the glass goblets on the side tables hum.

"Sir?" the guard near Eva stammered.

"I said," Killian growled, his golden eyes flashing with dangerous, unyielding dominance, "bring her to the center. Now."