I heard the engine before the lights.
A low growl rolling over the moonstone pavers, deep enough the Ridge Storm wards stirred—silver threads beneath the stone pulsing like the Packhouse was lifting its head to look.
Theo’s mind-link slammed through a heartbeat later, clipped and urgent.
Front driveway.
I was already moving.
Jax, Rory, and Seth fell in beside me automatically—four shadows cutting across the torchlit archways. The old Accord sigils braided through the walls flickered awake, reacting to the shift in dominance rolling off us. Wolfcraft humming over Valorian fae-threads, Drakonis fire-scripts warming beneath our boots. The house always listened. Tonight it felt like it was bracing.
Then the scent hit.
Honeyed pine and rain.
My wolf—Ace—lunged so hard I staggered.
Our
