Fallon’s attacks on the outer edges of both territories had escalated into something more targeted. Her strikes were no longer random, there was purpose in her movements, and it was clear she knew both packs intimately. It wasn’t just war. It was personal.
Celeste stood on the balcony of the Alpha estate, arms folded tightly across her chest. Mist from the nearby waterfall curled in the early morning light, the serene scene in sharp contrast to the churning in her chest. Hunter joined her quietly, bringing a cup of her favorite black cherry tea.
“You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied, voice thick.
He leaned on the railing beside her. “Is it the rogues, or Fallon?”
Celeste hesitated. “Both.” Then, after a long pause, she added, “And my parents.”
Hunter turned to face her, hi
