The evening settled over Blackridge like a slow exhale.
The sky burned in shades of amber and deep violet before surrendering to night, and the pack’s energy shifted with it—less rigid than morning training, but no less alive. Laughter echoed faintly from the lower grounds where wolves gathered, while patrols rotated through the forest with practiced ease.
Inside the Alpha House, The air felt quieter.
Rowan stood in the hallway just outside his room, leaning against the wall as he rolled his shoulders. His muscles still felt tight from earlier, the lingering effects of his partial shift refusing to completely fade.
“You’re going to tear something if you keep moving like that.”
Lyra’s voice came from the far end of the corridor.
Rowan looked up.
She was walking toward him, her steps
