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I find Dorian where he always is in the mornings before a council meeting—hunched over the communal coffee pot, pilfering the first potent drops, weakening it for the rest of us.

“There goes the world’s greediest alpha leader,” I joke, surprised when he actually jumps, turning around and glaring at me, then taking a sip of what must be still-scalding coffee.

Dorian is a big dude—his beard a little unkempt, his hair not as neat as usual. Bags hang under his eyes, which are shadowed and bloodshot.

“Everything all good, man?” I ask, stepping forward the replace the coffee pot, to keep the coffee from scalding on the hot plate. He blinks at me, as though taking a moment to process what I’ve said.

“Oh,” he finally says, the word coming out half as a cough. “Yeah. Everything is fine. Hoping they have good news for us today And…the twins. Still not sleeping through the night.”

The twins, Noah and Oliver—my sister’s brand new babies with two heads of dark hair that perfectly match Dorian’s. Colicky, apparently, and two complete handfuls. At first, I loved being around them, holding one in each arm and thinking about what it would be like to teach them everything I knew.

To take them swimming, show them how to build anything they wanted.

Except Noah and Oliver aren’t mine—not really. Not in the way that I want.

Now, I try to infuse the situation with some amusement. “That’s rough. You look like shit, man.”

Dorian laughs, shakes his head, and shuffles out of the room. I follow him to the big meeting room, which smells like old carpet and, faintly, Janice’s perfume.

“Good morning, boys,” she chirps, grinning and gesturing to the table. “Got some bagels for the big meeting today!”

“Sweet, thanks,” I give her a kiss on the cheek, which makes her blush.

Janice is pushing back through the door as I drop into one of the empty chairs, grabbing an everything bagel and slathering it with a thick layer of cream cheese. Dorian lowers into the chair next to me and stares straight ahead, going completely comatose while drinking his coffee.

The first person to arrive is my father, who looks tired and chastened.

Without meaning to, I feel the slightest bit sorry for him, especially after everything that happened to him last year.

His wife—my mother—turning out to be behind a major theft.

Her betraying the pack and family. Kidnapping my sister, Kira, and trying to sell her to the Grayhide alpha leader, a man notorious for his poor treatment of omegas and everyone else.

“Good morning,” my father mumbles, taking his seat and immersing himself in his notes. Months went by during which he was banned from continuing his role on the council. Dorian waited for Leta to conduct a thorough investigation into him.

The result was conclusive. Kellen Argent had no idea his wife was secretly betraying him for years. I thought that would be pretty clear to anybody who took one look at his face.

My father—who for years had been driven, focused on nothing but getting ahead and sucking up—is now quiet. Turned inward, like he has something to pay penance for.

Maybe he does.

The next person to walk through the door is Aidan Grayhide. He raises a hand to Dorian, who raises his eyebrows in return.

“Relax, boss,” Aidan jokes, grabbing the back of a chair and leaning on it.

He’s the kind of kid that’s just bursting with life.

His hair—which is unusually gray for his age—stands on end, tousled in different directions because he can’t stop running his hands through it.

His eyes are bright, something determined in them.

He showed up in Ambersky territory, telling Dorian he was the true heir to the Grayhide pack, and would be getting his revenge by killing the current alpha.

Although Dorian let him into the territory, gave him space to train and prepare to take down the Grayhide alpha leader, that doesn’t mean Aidan has a seat at the council table, where we discuss sensitive information, make plans for what to do next.

Dorian isn’t suspicious of Aidan, but he also doesn’t trust him. Ironically, Aidan exists in a gray zone.

“I’m just here to get the details about that—”

“Oh,” Dorian sits up straighter, grabs a pad from the table and scribbles something out, and slides it back over to Aidan, who takes it, nods at him, folds the paper and sticks it in the little pocket on his shirt.

Although he spends most of his time training—weightlifting, running, sparring—Aidan also spends a significant amount of time completing side quests for Dorian. Taking care of a couple of lone wolves that rolled into town, fixing the hole in an old woman’s porch, running messages.

It’s resulted in two things—one, Dorian is starting to like him more and more. And two, people in the town are warming to him, getting to know him by name.

Even if he is a Grayhide.

Aidan leaves, and the others arrive. Leta, the shifter in charge of intelligence.

Claire, a caster who imbues our stones with shifting magic.

I raise my hand and palm the necklace that holds the stone hanging around my neck—a gift from my mother—and think about that first shift I had to do without it.

The worst kind of growing pains, bone against bone, a slow, stretching torture.

Once was enough. With the Amanzite, the pain of shifting is gone. It also allows me to communicate with other wolves while in that form. Magic takes care of all the details.

“Good morning, everyone,” Claire says, once everyone is seated and listening.

“As I’m sure you are all aware, today marks one full year since we first discovered the severe and sudden decline in our stores of Amanzite, so we wanted to review some of the consequences and our plans to avoid it in the future. ”

Leta stands, her voice no-nonsense, her hands clasped in front of her.

“Our investigation revealed a theft of the Amanzite. The store room was accessed through Kellen Argent’s access card, then re-programmed to hide initial evidence of the access time.

Since then, my team has re-configured the room so any shifter wishing to access it must also have the Alpha leader present. ”

“That should help us protect Amanzite in the future,” Claire says, pointing up their presentation.

It shows a list of consequences for the lack of Amanzite.

Turning back to us, Claire says, “Obviously, you’re all aware of the immediate threats we’ll face without the gems, but there are several other, more minor effects, as well. ”

Leta stands straight and tall, her eyes darting to the Alpha leader’s when she says, “The obvious threat to our security at the border, but also an increased stress on mental health in the pack, due to shifters completing their transitions without the stone.

“There are threats to casters, too,” Claire glances at a woman beside her, whom I assume is another caster.

“Without Amanzite, our casters can’t continue practicing imbuing.

Our casting is like a muscle—when we don’t use it, it will atrophy.

Which will cause a longer slowdown of production when we finally do recover the stones. ”

They run through the rest of the list, which makes my stomach feel tight—the consequences range from minor physical pain to the overall downfall of the pack.

When I glance over at Dorian, he looks even more exhausted than before. Of course, he’s probably already thought about all this, but it can’t help to have it written out and color coded in front of him.

“As of right now,” Claire says, clearing her throat and turning to face the table. “Our stores are back to a reasonable level.”

“Do you have projections for how long it will last us?” Dorian asks, leaning forward.

Claire nods, and Leta clicks to a new slide, showing a graph that trends definitively down.

“At our old consumption rates? At least year. But with the rate of shifting rising—with there being more patrols along the borders—we’re looking at more like two months, maybe three, without replenishment. .”

I grab another bagel as Dorian asks, “And what are we looking at for replenishment?”

”We’ve been attempting a synthetic generation of the gem,” Claire says, her chin dipping. “But so far, we have not had any viable results.”

Synthetic generation? I glance at Dorian—he hadn’t told me about that. They’re trying to make Amanzite with magic ? I’ve never heard of something like that, and want to ask about it, but before I can speak, Leta jumps in, tapping on her tablet.

“But there’s good news from my end,” she says. “We have a contact from the Llewelyn pack that’s willing to meet at the market tonight. They want the pranxath powder, and have Amanzite to trade for it.”

“That is good news,” Dorian says, sounding surprised, almost as though he’d forgotten that it’s possible for things to go our way, every once in a while. Then, he stifles a yawn so discreetly, nobody else would notice it. “Send me the details, and I’ll prep to leave—”

“Dorian,” I set my hand down on the table in front of him, catching his eye.

I don’t talk much in these meetings, but this is finally my opportunity to say something.

There’s no way in hell he should go tonight.

First, because the dark market is in Grayhide territory, and dangerous enough as it is.

And second, because he’s clearly exhausted.

He won’t be on his game. Clearing my throat, I say, “You know I’ve been wanting to go on a mission.

More active role. Maybe you could let me take this one? ”

He holds my gaze for a moment, the tired quirk of his brow saying he knows exactly what I’m doing. Then, his expression softens, telling me that he appreciates the out.

“You know what? Since you’re begging for it,” Dorian laughs, waving his hand. “Leta, please send the information to both of us. Emin, I’ll debrief you on what I experienced last time I was there.”

“Sounds good,” I say; then, to be cheeky, I add Aidan’s, “ boss .”

Dorian rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

Then, turning his attention to the rest of the room, he asks, “Is there anything else?”

Claire clears her throat uncomfortably, her face turning the lightest shade of green as she says, “Actually, yes. There is something.”

Dorian blinks, refocuses on her. I wonder if he was already shifting his mind to back home, thinking about the babies waiting for him there. With the air of a man who’s thinking I need to get back to my wife , Dorian crosses his arms, leans back, and raises an eyebrow at her.

“And what would that be?”

She frowns, grimaces, then with a great deal of effort, heaves a hulking garbage bag up onto the table. It rocks it for a second, and the wet splunk sound would be enough to turn anyone’s stomach.

The entire table is riveted as she steels herself, reaches for the top of the bag, and peels it down to reveal the pale, slightly rotted head of Aidan Grayhide.

My father sucks in a quick breath of air through his teeth, disgust visible in his expression.

“Holy shit,” Dorian breaths, glancing toward the door Aidan just walked through less than an hour before. “ That is realistic.”

“Smells dead, too,” I say, frowning and pinching my nose so the words come out muffled and nasally.

But nobody laughs. Instead, Leta Knight turns to the side, only just barely grabbing a small trash can in time to vomit inside.