"Your Majesty." Asher didn’t kneel and inclined his head the exact amount tradition demanded and not a fraction more.
"It’s an honor to have you here at the West Pack." His face was unreadable, a mask of perfect stoicism that gave nothing away.
Elijah answered. "I couldn’t have missed this for anything in the world. It’s only right that I pay my respects to your father, Alpha Henry, especially knowing he died a hero."
His words sounded sincere, but the barb beneath them was obvious. Elijah was poking, prodding, and testing Asher.
Asher felt the sting, but he didn’t flinch. His tone was calm but cutting. "You’re right. I may never be able to surpass my father’s record when I take my place as Alpha."
Tension rippled between them.
Elijah studied him, twisted amusement gleaming in his eyes. Asher Nightshade wasn’t bowing — he was matching Elijah step for step, turning his game back on him. They were two predators circling, neither willing to bow first.
For a moment, both men simply stared at each other. Elijah’s black orbs locked onto Asher’s slitted gray eyes without a hint of fear. Those eyes had made countless wolves bow their heads, and had forced even the boldest to look away, but not Elijah.
His powers were not effective on him.
Slowly, Elijah stepped forward, his presence commanding, until he stopped before the line of West Pack alphas.
At once, they dropped to their knees, heads bowed low in perfect unison as they called out, their voices ringing like a single echo.
"Welcome to the West Pack, Your Majesty!"
Elijah’s gaze swept over them, pleased by the flawless display of respect.
"This," he said with a nod, "is why I’ve always loved the West Pack. So disciplined. So organized."
But Asher hadn’t moved. He remained upright, his gaze fixed in the distance yet sharp.
"Well then," Elijah murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly toward Asher. "Lead the way, shall we?"
Everyone fell into line the moment Elijah gave a subtle nod.
"This way," Asher said with a clipped tone before turning sharply on his heel.
The power dynamic shifted. Elijah walked directly beside Asher, both men at the head of the group. The line of West Pack alphas immediately filed in behind Elijah, their steps in perfect unison, while Asher’s personal guards spread out to the sides, creating a moving wall of protection as they walked briskly across the strip.
The jet’s metal stairs folded up with a hydraulic hiss now that everyone had disembarked.
Directly ahead, a fleet of black luxury SUVs stood in a perfect line. Their tinted windows glimmered under the sun, reflecting the expanse of the runway. A handful of uniformed drivers waited motionless beside the vehicles.
The group moved toward the largest and most lavish SUV, clearly reserved for Elijah. As they reached it, two of Asher’s guards stepped forward, opening the doors with flawless precision.
Elijah entered first, claiming the far end of the plush leather back seat, his movements slow and regal. Asher followed silently, taking his place beside him.
Up front, one of Asher’s security guards slid into the passenger seat, while the driver — already waiting — started the engine with a low, smooth purr.
Behind them, the other SUVs filled with alphas and dignitaries, engines rumbling to life one after the other. Asher had clearly gone all out to stage a grand, orderly welcome.
As their own vehicle rolled forward, the convoy fell into formation, gliding down the narrow runway road. The private strip faded behind them, swallowed by the sweeping, open land of the West Pack territory.
"I don’t see your beta, Your Majesty," Asher observed, his tone carefully neutral.
"Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s tending to your cardinal brothers and their precious mate." His voice carried a note of casual mockery.
"How considerate of you, Your Majesty," Asher replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his tone.
Elijah’s black eyes glinted, seizing the opportunity to strike back. "Speaking of mates, you must have heard by now that your ex-girlfriend is bound to Roman. That must sting, knowing the goddess didn’t even consider you a second option for her."
The jab hit its mark. Asher didn’t flinch outwardly, but the tight flex of his jaw betrayed him.
"We do not question the will of the goddess," Asher said, clearly trying to soften the blow.
"Indeed," Elijah murmured, his agreement loaded with unspoken meaning.
For a moment, the two men locked eyes, their gazes clashing in a silent battle. Neither of them was deceived; the understanding between them was mutual.
Almost simultaneously, they looked away, though the tension lingered like a live wire ready to snap.
Meanwhile, Violet and the others were dealing with their own nightmare.
Christian had joined them in the ride and if he’d been pretending before, now he wasn’t even hiding it. Every move he made screamed spy. His eyes flicked between them constantly, as if waiting for a slip.
Roman had taken the front passenger seat, leaving Violet pressed to one side of the backseat with Griffin in the middle, and Christian on the far end like an unwanted shadow.
The ride had barely begun when the SUV slowed, then slowed even further. Outside was the sound of cheers, chants, and excited shouts of the people.
Through the tinted glass, Violet could make out a sea of West Pack members, crowding the narrow road. They were waving, pounding on the windows, and craning their necks to peer inside. The vehicle crawled forward at a snail’s pace, surrounded by people desperate to see their king.
And then it happened suddenly.
Roman’s skin shimmered, taking on a slick, scaled sheen. In a single, smooth motion, he twisted and spat a spray of venom directly into Christian’s face before the man could react.
Christian went rigid, paralyzed instantly, his mouth frozen mid-snarl. Before the driver even registered the commotion, Roman’s head snapped forward and another shot of his venom struck him squarely.
The SUV lurched.
"Go, go, go!" Roman shouted with urgency. "Griffin, Violet—MOVE!"