Damon – POV
I sat at the massive obsidian table in my office, the air thick with the scent of old ink, steel, and something darker—mine. Maps were splayed out before me, old ones etched in bloodlines and territory, new ones blinking with digital borders and thermal grids. It wasn't just about power anymore—it was about precision. Dominance. Control. Every pack that dared oppose me, every faction that stood in my way, would be laid bare and bleeding beneath my boot.
And now… now, I had a new asset.
The witches.
Still draped in their ceremonial robes, they stood obediently by the far wall. No longer elusive shadows dancing around the edges of prophecy—they were mine. A gift handed to me on the precipice of ascension. And when Hades fully awakens within me, they won't just serve—they'll worship.
More loyal than any wolf bound to me by blood.
More vicious than any alpha raised by teeth and war.
