Aaron
Pack law is supposed to be simple.
Clear hierarchy.
Clear responsibility.
Clear consequences.
I’ve enforced it my entire adult life without hesitation, without mercy when mercy would weaken the structure. The pack comes first. Always. Even when it costs.
Especially when it costs.
That certainty is what makes the fracture so dangerous.
I’m sitting at my desk pretending to read patrol reports when Carl walks in.
He doesn’t knock.
He never does when it matters.
The words on the screen blur into useless shapes. Numbers. Names. Routes. None of it sticks. The bond hums beneath my skin like a restrained current. No pull, no demand. Just pressure. Just awareness. Like it’s waiting for me to stop lying to myself.
The taste of Reza still ghosts my mouth.
Heat.
Sparking.
That
