Third pov
The morning after the battle arrived slowly, dragging its weight through the packhouse like an unwelcome guest. The faint golden light seeping through the curtains did little to lift the heaviness that lingered in the air. Even the forest seemed muted, as though it too, was recovering from the violence it had witnessed.
Elena stood by the bedroom window, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the frosted glass. She had barely slept, her mind replaying the events of the previous night in an endless loop. The rogue Alpha’s lifeless eyes, the blood-soaked ground, the traitor’s betrayal—all of it churned within her, refusing to be silenced.
Behind her, Oliver stirred, the rustling of sheets breaking the quiet. She turned to find him sitting up, his hazel eyes dark with fatigue.
“Yo
