I had been sitting in the conference room for forty minutes, and I was pretty sure my spine had filed a formal complaint.
Across the table, Elder Sorin sat with his hands folded like he was at a goddamn funeral. Petra, arms crossed, was giving me the look she'd been giving me since I was twelve. Maren had her pen poised over her little leather notebook like she was actually going to write something useful down.
"So," I said. I drummed my fingers on the table. "Let's move on…updates on the most important part of this damn meeting?"
"Alpha," Sorin began, "we've reviewed the materials again. The archives from the fourth and fifth generation after Aldric and the medical notes Petra's been cross-referencing. And the conclusion remains consistent with what we told you the last time."
"Don't," I said.
"Rhys —"
