The moonlight spilt over the pack grounds, softening the sharp edges of stone and timber with a silvery glow. Autumn winds whispered through the high pines that framed the Crescent Moon Pack’s valley, carrying with them the scents of hearthfires, roasted venison, and damp earth after the recent rains. For Lyra, every small detail of this place was beginning to feel less like foreign territory and more like home.
Home.
It was a strange word for her. She had lived so long on the outside—running, hiding, keeping secrets about who she was—that the concept of safety had seemed like a fairy tale. Yet here, with Lucian’s steady presence at her side, she was beginning to believe again.
But belief was fragile, and so was trust.
Lyra stood by the training grounds, watching Lucian as he sparred w
