I walked into the pack house, my steps slow, deliberate. The air felt heavier tonight, like something was about to shift. Maybe it was the visitors. Maybe it was just me. Whatever it was, I couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling at the back of my mind.
Liam was waiting in the hallway, just outside the main dining area. He stood with his back slightly turned, his posture rigid, but the moment I approached, he looked over at me. His eyes—usually warm with familiarity—had a shadow over them now.
“Jackson,” he greeted me, his voice lower than usual. There was something off about the way he said my name. I stopped a few feet from him, studying his face.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice gruff.
Liam took a breath, but instead of answering immediately, he gestured for me to follow him inside.
