Helios

Chapter 6

The day of the meeting arrived, the tension palpable even before we set foot inside the hall. Marcus walked beside me, his stride confident and relaxed, but I couldn't shake the weight of the moment.

"Stay close to me," he advised, his voice steady but low. "And whatever you do, don't say anything that might bruise an alpha's ego. These guys are touchy, and the last thing you want is to set one of them off."

I raised an eyebrow, curious. "Has that actually happened?"

Marcus chuckled, glancing sideways at me. "Oh, yeah. There was this one time—an alpha, big guy, real piece of work—lost it because someone questioned his claim to a stretch of land. The guy went on a rampage in the middle of the meeting. Took weeks to clean up that mess."

The image of a hulking alpha wolf in a rage wasn't exactly comforting, but I kept my expression neutral as we continued walking. I adjusted the long black dress I wore, its fabric flowing elegantly around me, exposing the bare skin of my back. It was more formal than what I was used to, but Marcus had insisted that blending in required a certain level of decorum. Besides, there was something about the dress that made me feel... powerful.

As we approached the hall, I tried to distract myself by asking more questions. "What exactly gets discussed at these meetings?"

Marcus shrugged as if it were no big deal, but his eyes flicked toward the entrance with a glint of awareness.

"Usually it's about territory, pack size, new alphas coming into the fold. Basic political stuff, but this time..." He paused, his tone shifting. "This time, it's all about the rogues."

The mention of rogues sent a chill through me. I remembered my conversation with Francis, how he'd been so vague about the connection between the attacks and the wolves.

"But why rogues? If the pact between vampires and wolves is still holding, shouldn't that prevent rogue activity?"

Marcus gave me a look that suggested I was overthinking things. "I don't know. My pack's small, we don't get hit like some of the others do. Maybe that's why it's not my biggest concern." He shrugged again, but I could tell he wasn't being entirely upfront.

Marcus always played things close to the vest.

As we reached the hall's entrance, I scanned the crowd and immediately spotted a familiar face. Francis. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face as I hurried toward him.

"Francis," I greeted, genuine warmth in my voice. "Thank you again for your help."

Francis smiled back at me, the lines around his eyes softening in a way that seemed almost disarming.

"Glad to see you made it," he said, his tone as smooth and measured as always, like he was playing a game where he already knew all the moves.

There was a certain ease to the way he spoke, like he could predict every word out of my mouth before I said it. It was comforting and unnerving at the same time.

We exchanged a few pleasantries, the kind of small talk that felt light on the surface but, with Francis, always seemed to carry a hidden weight. His words were polite, his tone even, but beneath it all, I could sense the layers of calculation, the way he seemed to take stock of everything around him. His gaze lingered a little too long on me, as if he were assessing something, and I wondered for a moment if Marcus was right to be wary of him.

Just as I was beginning to relax, I felt a hand on my waist—firm, possessive. The sudden contact made me stiffen, and I glanced up sharply to see Marcus standing beside me, his expression casual but his grip telling a different story. The warmth of our earlier conversation disappeared, replaced by a tension I hadn't expected. He pulled me closer, his fingers pressing slightly into my side, as if marking a silent boundary.