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Chapter Eighty nine

The howling wind whipped through the ancient oaks that bordered the clearing, their branches swaying like skeletal fingers against the darkening sky. Inside the large, moss-covered longhouse, a tension thicker than the smoke curling from the hearth hung in the air. Alpha Logan, his face etched with worry, sat at the head of the long oak table, his gaze flitting between the council members and the five figures seated opposite him.

Draven, his silver hair a stark contrast against the dark clothes he wore, sat rigidly, his hands clenched into fists. Beside him, Jessica, her hair ablaze in the firelight, met Logan’s gaze with a defiance that flickered with a hint of fear. Sebastian, his weathered face etched with lines of worry, sat beside Jessica, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. Vicky, her vibrant green eyes alert, watched Logan with a fierce protectiveness, while Asher, Draven’s beta, leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, his face a mask of stoic calm.

The council member
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