Jaxon POV
The training grounds of the Silverthorn Pack bustled with the low hum of activity, a rhythm I’d once found steadying, but today it grated against my nerves like a blade on stone. The morning sun climbed higher, its golden light glinting off the dew-soaked pines that bordered the meadow, where pack members hauled timber for new cabins and reinforced the protective wards etched into the earth.
The air carried the sharp scent of sawdust, pine sap, and the faint ozone tang of magic from the barrier runes, but it couldn’t drown out the storm churning in my chest. I stood at the edge of it all, my arms crossed, my dark hair damp with sweat, my gray eyes scanning the work—supplies stacked for winter, foundations laid for new dens, defenses bolstered against threats I’d never have ima
