The silver arrow is still vibrating in the doorframe like a caffeinated tuning fork. Silas is standing on the porch, shirtless and barefoot, looking like a very irritated god of war. I am standing behind him, wrapped in the wool blanket because my crimson dress is currently a crime scene of silk and regret.
"Is that a love letter?" I ask, peeking over his shoulder. "Because in my experience, arrows are a bit of a aggressive way to say hello."
"It is a summons, Ivy," Silas growls, his eyes scanning the tree line. "The Council has decided that the safe house is not safe enough. They want a demonstration of my commitment to the Pack. Specifically, they want me to participate in the Dawn Hunt."
"The Dawn Hunt? That sounds like a lot of cardio for a Monday."
"It is a ritual," Silas says, tu
