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39

The grand hall was filled with an uneasy tension as Damien's uncle, Ezekiel, strode in, his expression pinched and severe. At his side was a woman, her features sharp and haughty, her eyes sweeping over the assembled pack members with barely concealed disdain.

I felt my heart sink as Ezekiel's gaze landed on me, his lips curling into a derisive sneer. "So, this is the woman my nephew has chosen to lead our pack?" he drawled, his voice dripping with contempt.

Beside me, Damien stiffened, his hand reflexively tightening around mine. "Uncle," he said, his voice low and measured. "What is the meaning of this?"

Ezekiel's lip curled into a humorless smile. "The meaning, dear nephew, is that I have grave concerns about the direction you have taken our pack." He gestured towards me, his expression one of open disdain. "This... _woman_ , is hardly fit to lead us. Her pedigree is questionable, and her son is nothing more than a half-breed, unfit to be the heir to our legacy."

A collective gasp
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