Zane sat in the dimly lit war room of his packhouse, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair. The scent of burning wood from the hearth mixed with the lingering tension in the air. His Beta, Cole, stood near the map spread across the table, detailing the borders of their territory.
“…And there’s been some movement near the western perimeter,” Cole was saying. “A rogue faction gathering strength. No real threat yet, but—”
“Then why are we talking about it?” Zane cut in, his voice edged with impatience.
Cole hesitated, exchanging a glance with another pack member before continuing. “Because their ranks are growing. And… because of the omega.”
Zane frowned, barely paying attention. “What omega?”
“The one fighting with the rogues. She’s making a name for herself.”
A few of
