Maya's POV:
The pack house looked like it had been torn open. Wind slid through the broken windows, making that low, lonely sound. Glass crunched under boots. Claw marks ripped through the walls. One corner beam was chewed to splinters.
The fight had lasted an hour. Maybe less. But the silence after… it felt old. Heavy. Like it had been waiting for us. My skin still buzzed, power crawling under it.
Packmates moved like ghosts, sweeping glass, picking up pieces. Nobody talked much.
Danny limped over and dropped down beside me on the porch. His leg was wrapped in a crooked bandage. “Could’ve been worse,” he muttered. “At least no one’s dead.”
I stared at my hands. They were still shaking. “This time.”
He gave me a small nudge. “You saved us, Maya. Don’t let what’s coming take that from
