Declan
The wind cut through the trees of Silver Hollow, carrying the crisp scent of damp earth and pine. The town had always felt like it existed on the edge of something ancient, something larger than itself, but tonight, it was still. Too still.
Declan Sinclair ran.
His feet pounded against the forest floor, his breath steady, and his muscles fluid as he pushed himself faster. The night blurred around him—shadows twisting, moonlight filtering through skeletal branches.
Running had always been his escape.
It was the only time he felt weightless, unbound by duty, unshackled from the pressures of being Beta. The rhythm of it, the burn in his legs, the air rushing past his skin—it was a reminder that he was alive. That he was more than just a title.
But no matter how fast he ran, some
