I Cut My Alpha's Bond, So the Lycan King Came Hunting novel · Chapter 20 of 24

Chapter 20: The Vote

Greywater is a keep of black stone in the northern forest, three hours from the dam road with Mercy at the wheel.

We arrived in two pickups and a van, all of us.

"Fourth Company," Mercy said, climbing down in her good apron. "Nobody touch anybody unless I say so."

"That's my line," I said.

"Not today, Sarge."

The doors of the Council hall were shut and guarded by two Lycans in black.

The older one lifted a hand.

"Wolves do not enter during session."

"I'm not a wolf," I said. "I'm a Warden."

I laid my cut wrist on the iron of the door.

It was warded, an old plain lattice, and it knew me.

It opened.

The guards stared at their own hands, and I walked in with eleven veterans and a one-armed cook with a skillet behind me.

The hall was round and high, lit by a ring of tall windows.

Nine seats in a half circle faced the center.

Four were filled by elders in black, and five by southern chiefs in the green and silver of their clans.

The silver-haired chief from the cairn sat in the middle with his rings on the arm of his chair.

At the center of the floor stood Dacre.

He had not slept.

He was holding a circlet of black iron in both hands.

"Then take it," he was saying, in a level voice. "The tolls on the Lowwater river, both banks, for a hundred years. Every coin the shared valley earns goes to the south. I offer it freely, for the oath, without a marriage."

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