The daylight from the high stone openings followed across his shoulders as he moved, gold striking the dark lines of his clothing, the blood at his cuffs, the broad carved silhouette of the seat awaiting him. And there was something almost ceremonial in the way he reclaimed it. As though the throne had not merely been occupied, but reaffirmed.
He sat. One leg crossed again. One arm resting along the carved armrest. Exactly as before. Like a true ruler returning to the axis around which the room revolved.
Only now, no one present mistook what that meant.
"Y-yes, Alpha…" Marcus answered at once, though even his voice carried the residual force of what had unfolded.
He turned sharply. The command passed from him into motion.
"Release them."
