*Isabella*
The scent of fresh-cut cedar fills the air as axes swing and saws cut through the sturdy trunks. The rhythmic thunk of wood hittin’ the ground echoes through the trees, minglin’ with the voices of our packmates workin’ together to build our new homes.
It feels real now—this land, this future we’re claimin’ as our own.
Chet stands beside me, sleeves rolled up, sweat glistenin’ on his skin as he directs the men on how to lay the foundation beams. The strength in his arms, the way his muscles move beneath his tanned skin, sends warmth spreadin’ through my chest. My Alpha. My mate. My future.
“We’ll have the first cabins framed before nightfall,” he says, his tone full of certainty. “Once we have a few homes built, we can start work on a meeting hall and a proper cookhouse.”
I
