The walls whisper.
They creak, groan, and bleed shadow like the very stone knows what’s coming. Wards thrum low, a deep keening like heartbeats.
Every nook and cranny of Black Veil territory vibrates with quiet, crouching violence—like the whole bloody world is holding its breath.
The Blood Moon is still rising.
And the hunt has begun.
Only this time… they’re the hunted.
Rael orders full lockdown at dawn.
All non-combatants are ushered into the inner sanctum. Children brought down into the caves. Ritual sites padlocked. Half the pack howls in protest at the cages—blood lust is rising, callouses on their paws from months in confinement and they want war, not safety.
But Rael’s jaw is set like stone and his command is absolute.
Only Vera hears the edge to his voice. It’s not domin
