13-
When the howling finally quiets, the silence left in its wake feels deafening. Grief still lingers in the air like thick smoke, and I can sense the ache pulsing through the pack.
Caden clears his throat beside me, his voice cutting through the heaviness.
“Alright… Vincent, Caron. You’re up,” he says, the words sharp but his tone tight with emotion. “Any idea how we’re going to save these kids?”
He’s trying to sound calm, commanding—Alpha—but I know him too well. I can hear the strain in his voice, the emotion just beneath the surface. He’s barely holding it together. Just like me.
Vincent doesn’t answer right away—he just smiles, warm and genuine—and I feel the tension in my shoulders begin to ease. That smile means something. A smile means there’s hope. A smile means there might
