Third Person POV
Jennifer’s heels clicked against the concrete floor of the safe room, a sound that cut through the cacophony of whining pups, chattering women, and grumbling elders. The atmosphere was tense, a mix of fear and frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
The safe room wasn’t spacious—it was cramped and dimly lit, with only a few cots lining the walls and crates of emergency supplies shoved into corners. The pups clung to their mothers, their small cries grating on Jennifer’s nerves. She plastered a soft, practiced smile on her face, moving between them like a doting caretaker, offering soothing words she didn’t mean.
Her mask was flawless. Years of practice—first under her mother’s tutelage and later as the wife of an alpha —had taught her how to wear it. Empathy
