SLOANE
Noon light poured through the tall windows of the pack house like it had something to prove.
It landed on the stone floor in clean lines. Bright. Sharp. Too honest. The kind of light that made it hard to hide anything—fear, lies, or the way my hands would not stop shaking.
I stood in front of the Alpha chambers with my arms folded tight over my chest.
Waiting.
Again.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. The hallway smelled like pine cleaner and cold winter air. Someone had opened the windows earlier. Christmas garlands were wrapped around the pillars, thick and green, with red ribbons tied too tight. The pack always went overboard in December. Lights. Wreaths. Fake snow sprayed on the windows.
Joy everywhere.
Except inside my chest.
This is a bad idea, I told mys
