Klaus’s POV
The Severein wolves gathered around the frost-crusted table, their breath rising in misty plumes against the dim lantern light. A map lay stretched across the stone, weighed down by blades and stones to keep the parchment from curling in the drafty hall. I traced the jagged lines where their scouts had marked satellite images.
“The ruins are here,” one of them said, tapping with a scarred finger. “An old monastery, abandoned for centuries. Beneath, tunnels. Hunters hollowed it out for their den.”
I studied the distance, jaw tightening. From where we stood, it was a three-hour trek—if one could even call it a trek. From the contour lines and sharp angles on the map, it would be more like three hours of clawing our way across mountain slopes designed to break bones and spirits
