I really couldn't stand a single grain of sand in my eye.
So when Raven sent over Lyra's scent-trail dossier—and received the mirror-orb recordings and captured images I'd forwarded—she called me through the pack link, already laughing.
"I have to say, Rogan found himself a real idiot!"
"We didn't even need to go digging for evidence. She gift-wrapped it and handed it right to us!"
Raven's laughter rang through the connection.
"Those recordings alone are enough to bury Rogan before the Pack Council. And then there's your bonded territory rights."
"Also," she asked, "when your parents pledged their territory collateral for his pack's founding, didn't he sign a blood-oath debt?"
He had.
Rogan had insisted on making that oath. He'd made me witness the entire ritual—said it was to give my bloodline peace of mind.
Even when my parents refused, even when I said it really wasn't necessary.
Rogan wouldn't budge.
"Selene."
"I don't want anyone thinking I'm taking advantage of your bloodline."
"Keep this safe. It's your protection for the future."
Now.
I stared at that blood-oath scroll in my hands, at the crystal containing the recorded ritual, listening to Raven say—
"With all this—"
"There's more."