(Kaelen)
The alarm goes off at three in the morning.
Not a sound — a feeling. The pack bond, which I've been slowly, quietly absorbing into my awareness over the last weeks, pulls tight all at once like a wire snapping taut. I'm awake before my eyes open. Beside me, Theron is already sitting up, already reaching for his phone, already out of bed before I've fully processed what's happening.
"Eastern border," he says. Not to me specifically. Just saying it, the way he does when he's already three steps into the response and narrating for his own clarity. He's pulling on clothes in the dark with the efficiency of someone who's done this many times. "Rogue pack. Twelve, maybe fifteen signals."
"How do you know the count."
"Sora." He holds up his phone briefly. A message chain already act
