MARCUS’S POV
I sat at the head of the obsidian table, my claws tapping the polished surface, the firelight casting jagged shadows across the pack’s council chamber. The air in our forest stronghold, deep in the BloodMoon pack’s territory, was thick with tension, the scent of pine and ash heavy. Veron, my Beta, leaned forward in his chair, his silver hair glinting, his eyes narrow and sharp like a hawk’s. I could hear his wolf, Grim, prowled behind his gaze, itching for a fight. My own wolf, Raze, growled low, sensing the challenge in Veron’s posture. We were allies, bound by blood and ambition, but trust? That was a fragile thread, ready to snap.
“Alpha Marcus, how is Caleb’s progress coming on?” Veron asked, his voice smooth but edged, his fingers steepled. “Has he found the Moonborn al
