The great hall of the Lycan Alliance had been built to hold six hundred men, but this morning it held perhaps ninety, and it still felt too small for the noise inside it.
Kings from the four cardinal regions — East, West, North and South — sat at four thrones along the raised platform at the head of the room. Below them, arranged in tiers of long benches, sat the alphas, one from every pack in every region, some in suits, some in plain clothes, all of them talking over one another.
Derek sat at the head of the Western section, looking nothing like the cold, controlled King most of them knew. His hair was a mess from constant running of his hands through it, and dark shadows sat under his eyes.
It was the second day since Nana and Derek had been taken by the Umbras, and he hadn't come up with anything, or any sign. Two days without the most important women in his life—he was on the brink of running crazy.
