The days after stretched long and strange. For the first time since I’d arrived, the packhouse felt like it was holding its breath. Conversations dropped when I entered rooms, replaced by half-smiles and glances that slid away too quickly. Lyric said it was the moon. That wolves grew restless when phases shifted. That the air itself buzzed with anticipation. It didn’t make me feel better. Damien was the first to break the silence one afternoon as we sat around the conference table, papers and scent marks scattered between us. “The alliance gala’s coming up,” he said, glancing at Elias. “Two nights. Trenton wants the warriors prepped and the patrol routes doubled.” Elias leaned back in his chair, calm as ever. “Kell’s already on it.” “Kell?” I asked, looking between them. “Marcellus G

