Alpha Dawn's POV
The lingering shadow of Calandra's ultimatum, ten days until the Onyx Power consumed me, felt heavier than the very air I breathed. The liquor did little to cut through the cold, calculated anxiety that gripped my gut. My mate is among those final three nominated breeders. The words were a lifeline, but they also felt like a noose. If Calandra was wrong, I was a dead man walking.
I left the cabin, the Pack staff immediately falling into formation around me. Their silent presence was a familiar comfort, and like a wall of obedience that kept the chaos of the Pack at bay. The receiving chamber was a quiet wing of the Palace, and the walk was unnecessarily slow. Each footfall became a heavy beat in the oppressive silence.
A young guard, his scent barely past the sharpness of adolescence, led the way. He stopped at the first of three identical mahogany doors. The subtle difference in the wood grain was the only marker separating my fate from mere inconvenience.
