Chapter 8: Seraphine's Eyes

Two old Alphas, ninety armed wolves, and one girl in the middle of a field. Alpha Redmoor is seventy-four and built like a bull that's been dying angrily for a decade. Alpha Ashfell is eighty, thin as wire, with a cane he doesn't need. "They've sent a pup," Redmoor said. "They've sent an Iron Vow Commander," I said. "First question. Why do you want this land?" Redmoor opened his mouth to bark something about ancestral right. And Vesper went perfectly still in my head, and I heard the thing...