. With each replay, she scribbled something new on the notepad on the desk. Four days had passed since the

he alphas to reach out to her first. Each passing day increased her angst, drove her mad with worry. The sou

th a list of advantages th

e

needed ammunitions if she intended to worm her way out of this sticky situation. So far, she had come up with nothing. Yes, she could d

of the vacant position of the alpha or her lack of a mate. It touched and unnerved her. In the days followi

e to take over the throne. She longed for the crown the same way she longed for air. Her werewolf already pl

n ink with pursed lips. Zebulun would blanch if he saw the state of his office. A beautiful disarray of paper

was only one goal. Figure out the weaknesses of Tyre and Naphtali should they

un was hers to lead. Saying it was easy, believing was harder. The ring pendant pressed against her collarbone seemed to burn her skin, sn

from the cup, the gentle aroma infiltrated her nostrils and her shoulders slumped. She might not take tea the traditional way but t

a chance to knock. A head full of black hair poked in, her frown eased into a small

, she gestured for the guard—stationed in front of he

se, throne room and task a few with the job of patrolling the markets. Other pack members lived with their mates or families in the ot

e than she cared to admit. If the witch was comfortable with having guards at

she was tired of being the constant source of her h

ad that excuse. The ingenious idea she had at that time they strolled into the woods now seemed so stupid, gone were the days of arr

of her desk. His visit was unusual, she tried to look stern but broke into a smile when Killian chuckled. He gave a curt bow and she gri

love

r voice neutral. “To wh

step forward, pulled an envelope from behind. The seal on it made her heart sto

ward conversation, he took his leave and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her hands shook as she picked the enve

ore i

the content. She shook her head, this could not be real. The council could not be here in one week. Picking the

rt slowed, the world moved around her in slow motion. Crumpling the paper, she tossed it into the bin, popped out of her seat and shoved e

r feet. She stopped when streaks of sunlight shadowed the portrait of Zebulun hanging on the wall opposite

and palmed her head. “I’m sorry.” Stalking to the portrait, she took it off the wall

ad cleared and a solu