The first light of dawn bathed the pack grounds in a muted, golden glow, casting long shadows across the trampled grass. The aftermath of the battle was still tangible—the scent of blood lingering in the air, the tension coiled like a living thing. Yet, amid the chaos, the pack had shown their strength, proving that we were ready to face whatever came next. But strength alone wouldn’t be enough. We needed allies.
Marcus stood at the far edge of the clearing, his expression unreadable as he watched the pack tend to their wounds. The defiance that had marked his face during the challenge was gone, replaced by something else—a resignation laced with determination. Caius, his mate and a warrior in his own right, approached him, their shared gaze an unspoken conversation.
I took a deep breath
