I stumbled over my own feet as the man—the Lycan King, as I'd overheard someone call him—dragged me through the massive oak doors of the Blue Mountain Pack's great hall. My head was spinning, my wrists raw from the ropes that bound them behind my back. The taste of dirt and blood lingered on my tongue, the gag in my mouth making it impossible to speak.
The hall fell silent as we entered. Hundreds of eyes turned to stare at us—at me, disheveled and humiliated, being pulled like a misbehaving dog on a leash.
My heart stopped when I saw them all gathered there. The entire pack. Every person I'd grown up with. Every face that had turned against me when I needed them most.
The Lycan King yanked me forward, and I stumbled again. My knees hit the hard floor with a crack that sent pain shooting up my legs. I bit down on the gag to keep from crying out.
"Alpha Maxen," the King's voice boomed across the hall. "I believe this belongs to your pack."
