Fear changes a pack before it ever breaks it.
It makes wolves whisper instead of howl.
It makes eyes linger too long on shadows.
It turns loyalty into something brittle.
Since the attack in the courtyard, Blood Moon has not slept easily. The borders remain sealed, the patrols tripled. No one moves alone after dark—not even elders. Even the air feels tighter, heavier, as if the territory itself is holding its breath.
And everywhere I go…
Silence follows.
Not reverent.
Uneasy.
I feel it in the way wolves avert their gazes from my stomach. In the way conversations die when I enter a room. In the way some scents shift when I approach—fear layered beneath respect.
Zane notices it too.
His jaw tightens every time it happens.
“They forget who you are,” he growls as we walk the inner c
