Nathan’s POV
The cold morning air hit me as I stepped outside, the early light casting a pale glow over the grounds. I needed this—to clear my head, to feel something other than the ache of grief and the anger roiling inside me. My mother was gone, and the pack had taken a hit. I felt every loss, but her death cut the deepest. I couldn’t let it show, though. My family needed me strong, not lost in mourning.
By the time I made my way downstairs, the yard was a somber battlefield. My men were cleaning up the evidence of the night’s attack, bodies being carried away, and blood pooled in the dirt and on the stones, staining our grounds. The metallic scent lingered in the air, and it turned my stomach. My children couldn’t see this. I made a mental note to keep them inside until every trace
