[Meredith].
Randall's gaze shifted back to Draven.
"Regarding the war in Duskmoor," he said, voice steady, "you still owe me the clear details."
Draven nodded. "I know. I will come find you later in the evening."
Randall simply accepted that with a controlled nod of acknowledgement. Then, without another word, he rose and left the dining hall.
Jeffery stood next. "I will excuse myself as well, Alpha."
Oscar followed, offering Draven a small nod before taking his leave. The room grew quieter with each person who left, until only the three of us remained.
Dennis leaned back in his chair, arms folded tight across his chest. His expression hadn't softened, not even a little.
"Are you really meaning to visit her?" he asked, voice low, brittle.
I turned slightly, studying him. His anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but there was something else too. Something far heavier.
Draven didn't look at him when he answered. "I haven't decided."
