The battlefield was quiet now. The scent of blood and scorched earth lingered in the air, a reminder of the war that had just torn two packs apart. Bodies of fallen warriors lay scattered across the clearing, Silver Ridge and Crescent Moon alike. The victorious howls of Crescent Moon had faded into silence as they tended to their wounded and counted the cost of their survival.
Nova stood in the middle of it all, her breath still ragged from the battle. The cut along her ribs throbbed, but the pain was secondary to the weight pressing down on her chest.
It was over. Silver Ridge had fallen. And with Maddox dead, the pack was left leaderless.
Her eyes scanned the retreating figures of Silver Ridge wolves vanishing into the tree line. Dorian was among them, the last to leave. Their gazes m
