Lowell stands by the window, unmoving. The night is cold and heavy. The weight in his chest suffocates him. He has led armies into war. He has faced death more times than he can count. But nothing — nothing — has prepared him for this. His six-month-old son, his first pup, is gone. Taken from his own walls.
His fists tremble at his sides. He wants to smash the glass, rip apart the walls, tear through the night until he finds him. But he cannot lose control. Not yet. The pack watches him. They look for strength in their Alpha. And yet, inside, he is breaking.
Nana sits curled on the couch, her body shaking with silent sobs. Her face is pale, her eyes red and swollen. She clutches the small blue blanket their son loved. It still smells like him. His soft baby scent, warm milk and innocence
