The warmth of my mates’ presence lingered long after we left the quiet safety of our room. Their closeness had steadied me, grounding the storm inside my chest. But as we stepped into the hallway, the world shifted sharply back into motion.
War was coming.
And every wolf in the pack house felt it.
Warriors rushed through the halls, their movements sharp and purposeful. Omegas carried supplies to the safe rooms. Healers prepared their stations with herbs, bandages, and emergency kits. The air buzzed with tension — not panic, but readiness.
My mother stood at the bottom of the stairs, issuing orders with calm authority. Her presence filled the space, commanding respect from every wolf who passed.
When she saw me, her expression softened. “Marisol.”
I descended the stairs, my mates flan
