The council chamber at Bloodstone was quiet, the heavy stone walls echoing only the subtle murmur of monitors powering up. The smell of pine and smoke from the hearth clung to the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of snow still melting outside.
Crystal stood beside Dustin at the head of the semicircular table, the soft hum of the pack’s telepathic network threading through the room. The rogue attack from last night still buzzed in their minds, and the tension in the air was palpable.
“This isn’t just rogue activity,” Dustin said, voice low but commanding. “This was organized. Someone is leading them, and they’ve tested our defenses across multiple borders.”
Bane and Lizzy flanked him, alert, ready, their wolf senses tuned to every subtle movement in the room. Scouts patrolled the
