Chapter 5: Dinner with the Devil

The dining hall was a cavernous, gilded monument to everything I hated about the werewolf elite. High vaulted ceilings, flickering candelabras that smelled of expensive beeswax, and a mahogany table long enough to host a state funeral. It was designed to make you feel small, and honestly? It was working. "Keep your eyes on your plate," Sebastian hissed under his breath as we were ushered to our seats. "Don't stare, don't sniff, and for the love of everything, don't mention the 'human' thing unless you're asked." "No kidding, Seb," I muttered, sliding into my chair. "I’m not planning on doing a TED Talk about my lack of a wolf gene." The other guests were already there. There was Ezra, the British prick who’d been eyeing me like a piece of dry-aged steak since we landed. Next to him was a girl named Angel who looked like she’d break if you blew on her too hard, and Aakesh, who was busy pretending to be invisible. Then, the heavy oak doors groaned open. The room went so quiet you could hear the sweat dripping off my forehead. The Alpha King, Kaelen, walked in. If my brother was a 'natural leader,' then Kaelen was a natural-born hurricane. He didn't just walk; he owned the floorboards. He was older, scarred, and radiated a kind of lethal gravity that made my human heart skip three beats and try to exit through my throat. He sat at the head of the table, his eyes—cold, predatory, and sharp—sweeping over us like a lighthouse beam looking for a wreck. "Eat," Kaelen commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it hummed in my chest like a bass amp. I dove into the meal. It was fancy, pretentious stuff, but I was so hungry from the stress that I didn't care. That was until Kaelen’s gaze landed on me. He didn't look at my siblings. He looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly as he picked up on the one thing that made me stand out: my scent. Or rather, the lack of it. "The human," Kaelen said, his voice dripping with an unreadable emotion. "The Bellevue girl. My enforcer told me you were a... curious addition to this summit." The table went dead silent. Ezra smirked, clearly waiting for the King to chew me up and spit me out. "It’s Elian, Your Majesty," I said, my voice only trembling for a split second before I clamped down on it. *Play the game, Elian. Don't be the victim.* "And I prefer the term 'observation-based personnel' over 'human'." A few people at the table choked on their wine. Kaelen’s lips twitched—not a smile, but something dangerous. "Observation-based," he repeated, savoring the word. "And what have you observed, Elian? In a room full of apex predators, what does a fragile little thing like you see?" I looked him straight in the eyes. It was a stupid, suicidal move, but I couldn't look away. The air around him felt charged, like the seconds before a monsoon. "I see a lot of people who are very good at roaring, Your Majesty," I said, my voice steady, "but very few who know how to keep their own house in order. Roaring is easy. Managing logistics? That's where the real power is." Kaelen leaned forward, the shadows of the candelabras dancing across his scarred face. "Are you calling my guests incompetent, little human?" "I’m calling a spade a spade," I shot back, mentally screaming at myself to shut up. "If you want the truth, I’m the best person at this table to tell you." The room was so tense I thought the wine glasses would shatter. Kaelen kept staring at me, his eyes burning into my soul, dissecting me. Then, he let out a short, sharp laugh that sounded like dry leaves skittering on concrete. "Bold," he murmured. "I haven't been bored in fifty years. Perhaps you’re not as fragile as I thought." He turned back to his meal, but I knew. I had officially put a target on my back, and the King was currently drawing the crosshairs.