The ancient stone walls of Stirling Castle had witnessed centuries of Scottish warfare, but nothing quite like the emergency council gathering that assembled on a rain-swept Thursday morning three days after Isabelle's betrayal.
Seraphina stood at the window of the castle's Great Hall, watching seventeen black cars navigate the winding road that led to Scotland's most historic fortress. Each vehicle carried the leadership of Europe's most powerful werewolf families—bloodlines that had survived Roman conquest, medieval warfare, and two world wars, but now faced extinction at vampire hands.
"They're scared," Damon observed, joining her at the window. His presence still triggered that harmonic resonance between their bloodlines, but they'd learned to control it enough for public appearances. "Half of them probably think this is a trap."
