Three days later, I stood at the northern gate watching a convoy of vehicles approach. My hand instinctively went to the knife at my belt before Duke's steady presence appeared at my side.
"It's Brennan's wolves," he said quietly. "The ones who chose to follow him."
There were maybe twenty of them- families, mostly. I watched as they climbed out of trucks and cars, their possessions packed into whatever they could carry. Children clung to their parents' hands, eyes wide as they took in the sanctuary.
Brennan met them at the gate, and I saw the moment his composure cracked. An older woman- his mother, I realized, pulled him into a fierce embrace.
"You did the right thing," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Your father would be proud."
"My father would have called me a traito
