POV: Tristan
The Silver Creek was no longer a pack; it was a hive of whispers, and I was the one who had kicked the nest.
I stood on the training grounds, the air biting and sharp, watching as warriors huddled in small groups. They weren't practicing their strikes or checking their armor. Their heads were bent together, eyes darting toward the High Wing, then toward me. The silence that fell whenever I walked past was heavier than any shout.
"Did you hear?" a young scout whispered to a companion, thinking I was out of earshot. "The Heir found Nora’s dagger in the evidence. They say the maid didn't run away—they say she was silenced."
"But the Alpha only took her land-rights," the other replied, his voice laced with doubt. "If she killed a pack-mate, shouldn't she be in the cells? Unles
