Evelynn’s POV
The pack house shook with the roar of wolves, the sound vibrating in my ribs, but beneath it I felt the darker current - challenge.
Not everyone bowed. Not everyone howled. One voice cut clean through the chaos.
“She doesn’t wear our patch.”
The crowd parted like water, and a woman stepped forward. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Her hair was braided tight, her arms marked with scars. A fighter. Her wolf glimmered in her eyes, gold burning hot, her voice steady as steel.
“She doesn’t bleed for us. Doesn’t carry our mark. And you think you can drop a stranger at our table and call her Luna?” She spat at my feet. “I’ll never bow.”
The noise dropped to a growl, low and eager. Bloodlust scented the air.
My wolf pressed hard against my skin, pacing, claws scratching. "She doubts in
