The news came at dawn.
A scout, breathless and pale, stumbled into the pack territory with blood on his clothes and terror in his eyes. The Red Claw—the real Red Claw, not the survivors Sera led—had regrouped in the mountains. They had found new allies, darker allies. And they were coming.
Damon called an emergency council within the hour.
Elara sat at the table, her heart pounding. The morning light filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. Beside her, Caleb's face was carved from stone, his jaw tight, his hands still. Across from them, Sera had been invited—a sign of trust, of alliance—and her expression was grim.
The room filled quickly. Warriors, elders, representatives from both packs. The air was thick with tension, with fear, with the weight of what wa
