The Great Hall of the Brastov mansion was a cathedral of tension. The scent of aged oak and expensive cologne clutched at the air as the Elders of the High Council sat in a semi-circle, their faces carved from stone. Gotti stood before them, his posture a masterpiece of icy indifference. Though every nerve in his body was screaming for a hunt, he couldn't legally begin.
"The law is clear, Alpha," Sylvester said, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "A Pack cannot transition during the Full Moon without its heart. It's been four full moons without a mate by your side. We have been forced to accept that the moon godess has chosen not to bless you with one..." he paused, looking around him to see the quiet approvals from the council members.
"You must takeba chosen mate. Five moon cycles without a mate is a death sentence for an alpha. Maribel is prepared, Alpha. She will make a hood fit for our Luna."
