The afternoon energy shifted as Alpha Marcus settled onto our back porch, a fresh plate of crawfish in his hands. The spicy aroma filled the air as he expertly twisted and peeled, his movements carrying that distinctive New Orleans fluidity.
"Speaking of pack politics," he said, his dark skin gleaming in the afternoon light, "y'all heard about what's happening with Northshore?"
Lorenzo looked up from his own plate, interest flickering across his features. "The pack that lost their Alpha last spring?"
"That's the one," Marcus nodded, his expression growing serious. "Beta Richard's been trying to hold things together, but..." He shook his head. "Man's getting old. Can't maintain control much longer."
"I thought they had potential successors lined up?" Brandon asked, though his eyes kept
