Snickers and outright laughter spread through the pack. Some wolves murmured their agreement, pointing at me like I was a trapped prey.
I ground my teeth together, forcing myself to remain composed. “Those images mean nothing. My dealings with them were entirely about pack politics and alliances—nothing else.”
“Pack politics, you say?” Lilith scoffed, picking up the image from the floor—the one showing a wolf’s arm around my waist as we entered the lodge. “Then explain this one. How do you justify it?”
She leaned closer, lips twisted in cruel amusement. “This comes from a crystal vid. Shall I show everyone the full sequence?”
I studied the image for a heartbeat, then suddenly laughed, low and relieved. The wolf in the picture wasn’t an alpha or a client—it was my older brother, testing me during training.
That night, I stumbled back to my den drunk with frustration and humiliation. I meant to call Alaric to fetch me—but instead, I ended up calling my brother.