Cade Wolfstone
The walls of the packhouse feel too tight, like they’re pressing in on me. Every breath I take tastes like dust and old lies. My father’s lies. The Elders’ silence. This whole place reeks of betrayal pretending to be peace.
I push open the oak doors. The guards outside lower their heads, but none of them meet my eyes. They don’t have to. They already know.
Inside the great hall, my father stands tall, arms crossed like he’s made of stone. His gray beard might fool others, but not me. I see the tension in his jaw. He’s ready for a fight.
“You crossed the border again,” he says. His voice is low, sharp. “We warned you.”
I don’t slow down. “Your warnings mean nothing now.”
He steps in front of me. His eyes glow with Alpha heat. “You’ll risk everything for a human? Someone
