The "Dampening Field" from the Stary Union airship had turned the morning sky into a static-filled grey, but inside the Alpha’s private training conservatory, the air was thick with the scent of old oak and ozone. Hunter—known to the world as the Cold King of the Blood-Moon—stood by the weapon rack, his heart doing a slow, heavy thud against his ribs.
He was an Alpha. He was supposed to be a master of his emotions, a pillar of ice. But as he watched the two boys—Leo and Toby—exploring the racks of wooden practice swords, his inner wolf, *Bane*, was pacing in circles, let out a low, possessive whined.
"They aren't mine," Hunter whispered to himself, the lie tasting like copper in his mouth. "They are 'Northern wards.' Willow said so."
But his blood knew. Every time Leo moved, Hunter felt
