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Chapter 60

ALPHA LUCIUS'S POV

The rhythmic clack of Marcus' cane against the polished marble floor grated on my nerves, a counterpoint to the symphony of whispers that filled the throne room. My advisors hummed like agitated bees, their hushed voices swirling around me.

"Your Majesty," Marcus began, his voice a steady anchor in the swirling sea of sound. "The situation in the Northern Pack grows dire."

A flicker of irritation flared within me. "I am aware, Marcus," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. My sightlessness rendered me a prisoner in my own palace, forced to rely on the fragmented reports and filtered information others deemed fit for my ears.

"But with all due respect, Your Majesty," Marcus continued, his voice unwavering, "ignoring their pleas for assistance is seen as…uncharacteristic."

Uncharacteristic. A curious choice of words. Was I supposed to be moved by the plight of a young, inexperienced alpha, especially one who had spent most of her life flitting about the periphery
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