The clearing was still, almost too still, as Selene crouched in the underbrush, watching the Bloodfang wolves move through their training drills. The crisp morning air clung to her skin, a reminder of the task at hand. Every nerve in her body was alive with anticipation. This was the moment she’d been preparing for—her first strike against the pack that had cast her aside.
She glanced over at Ronan, who was beside her, his expression unreadable but his posture taut, like a coiled spring. He was ready. The rogue wolves, too, were poised, waiting for her signal. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy silence that made every sound seem louder than it was.
Selene’s eyes flickered to the distant line of Bloodfang warriors sparring in the clearing. They were distracted, focused on their
