Born in the Wrong Pack
The nightmares returned that night.
Caleb jolted upright in his room at the packhouse, breath ragged, drenched in sweat. The moonlight painted silver lines across the floor, but his mind was still shackled in shadows.
He closed his eyes, and the past pulled him under.
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Twelve Years Ago – Crimson Stone Pack
The Crimson Stone territory was cold even in the summer. Mist hugged the pine trees like a second skin, and the pack ran like a machine—structured, brutal, and without mercy.
Caleb was the only omega born in the pack that decade.
He was six the first time he was punished for “acting out.” All he’d done was run faster than the alpha heir during training. His reward was a split lip and a week in isolation.
“You have to learn your place,” his father had sa
