The morning after Damon’s appointment as leader of the new campaign came heavy with dread. Not dread of the enemy. Not dread of death. But dread of Damon himself.
Word had spread quickly across the White Sky Pack, Gamma Damon, son of the Alpha, had been tasked with leading the next conquest. And if the warriors thought his training sessions had been brutal before, now they were about to experience something far worse.
By dawn, the training yard was filled with grumbling wolves. Some had not even finished eating when the horns sounded, pulling them from their beds. The c**k had barely crowed, yet Damon already stood in the center of the yard, his sharp gaze sweeping across them like a blade.
“Form ranks!” His voice cracked the air.
The warriors obeyed, though many moved sluggishly, thei
