The silence in the clearing was heavier than the blizzard.
I sat in the black-stained snow, my hands shaking as I looked at Marek. The young scout, who had been full of life and loyalty just moments ago, looked like an old man on the verge of death. His skin was translucent, stretched tight over his bones, and his breathing was a wet, shallow rattle.
I had done this. To one of our own.
Silas stood between us, his shoulders tight, his gaze fixed on Marek’s withered face. The wind whipped his dark hair, but he stood as still as a statue, the weight of his leadership crushing him in real-time.
"He won't survive the night," Silas said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. It was his Alpha voice—the one he used when hard, bloody decisions had to be made. "The void didn't just take his energy,
