Daemon Corvus emerged, looking concerned but not alarmed. He was older than Thessian by perhaps a decade, with silver-gray hair and the sharp, calculating eyes of someone who'd spent a lifetime gathering intelligence. He moved with the confidence of someone who'd never been questioned, never been suspected.
Veyra followed close behind with two guards, all three armed but trying to appear casual.
"Alpha," Daemon said, bowing his head respectfully. "Veyra said you needed to see me urgently. Is this about Kael? I heard about his arrest." He shook his head with apparent dismay. "I can't believe one of our most trusted strategists would...."
"Save it," Thessian interrupted, his voice like stone. "I know everything."
Daemon's expression didn't change. Not a flicker. Too controlled. Too perfect. But his eyes sharpened, scanning the room, assessing the situation with professional efficiency.
"I don't understand," he said smoothly.
