The journal entries haunted me for days.
I read them late at night when I couldn't sleep, absorbing my mother's voice—intelligent, passionate, increasingly desperate as corruption proved more entrenched than she'd anticipated.
Year 1, Entry 47: We intercepted communications proving Alpha Mikhail is selling pack members into forced labor contracts. The Council won't investigate—three members are profiting from the same scheme. So we're releasing the evidence anonymously to human authorities. It will destroy Mikhail's pack reputation and potentially expose werewolf existence. But twenty-three wolves are suffering. Which matters more—protecting the secret or protecting the innocent?
We chose the innocent. Goddess help us.
The entry was dated six months before I was born.
I looked up from
