Jason POV
We move through the halls of the pack house, the echoes of our conversation with Mom still ringing in my ears. Mason and Grason are quiet, but I can feel the weight we’re all carrying. We’ve always known there’s more to this role than just leading the pack—there’s the burden of protecting our kind, the legacy we inherited, and the ghosts of a past that refuse to stay buried.
We head to the armory, hidden deep beneath the pack house. It’s a place few remember exists. The air grows colder as we descend, the scent of old battles lingering in the stone. I push open the heavy wooden door, the hinges groaning, revealing the armory beyond. Dust blankets the room, settling over weapons that haven’t seen the light of day in years. Old armor leans against the walls, relics of a time when
