THE TRAITOR’S PACK
The wolves closed in.
Steel glinted in torchlight—silver-edged spears, rune-carved blades, chains humming faintly with suppressive magic. Kael’s muscles coiled as instinct surged through him, Alpha power rising to meet the threat. He pulled Nara behind him without looking away from Riven.
“You’re standing in front of armed wolves,” Kael growled. “If you’ve come to die again, I can oblige.”
Riven laughed softly, spreading his hands in mock surrender. “Still dramatic. Still predictable.”
He wore no crown, no Alpha markings—yet the wolves around him stood with disciplined precision, eyes locked on Kael with a loyalty that chilled the air. This was not a ragtag rogue band.
This was a pack.
A dangerous one.
Nara stirred behind Kael, pushing herself upright despite the
