The morning of the meeting smelled like iron and wet leaves.
Not threatening.
Not gentle.
Balanced between both.
Lila dressed slowly, choosing a deep blue gown that allowed room for her growing stomach while still carrying the quiet dignity the pack expected of her now. She did not dress for Hollow Ridge. She dressed for herself, for the child inside her, and for the wolves who would stand behind her when words became heavier than weapons.
Caleb watched from the edge of the room, arms folded, jaw tight in a way that had nothing to do with disapproval and everything to do with fear he refused to speak.
“You don’t have to come,” he said for the third time that morning.
“And you don’t have to pretend I’ll listen,” she replied gently.
He almost smiled. “I had to try.”
Seren entered wi
