The Silverstone Pack house, typically a place of unity and comfort nestled among ancient oaks and guarded lawns, stood shrouded in tension. That morning, as a slant of pale sunlight broke through the kitchen windows, an unusual hush settled over the hallways. The omegas, who usually filled the air with light chatter and the clatter of breakfast preparations, had fallen silent, their eyes shifting uneasily between the flickering television in the common room and each other.
It was in this subdued atmosphere that Noah, accompanied by his parents, entered the packhouse. The trio crossed the threshold together, their steps echoing on the polished wood floors, drawing the eyes of every pack member present. Even the usually unflappable cook, apron dusted with flour, paused mid-motion, her gaze
