CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The forest whispers with the rustle of leaves as I follow the others to the clearing, the place where our pack has always gathered. My heart hammers in my chest—not just from the brisk jog here, but from the anxious swirl of emotions inside me.
"Something's happening," murmurs a voice from behind, and I don’t bother looking back to see who spoke. There’s an unease in the air.
I find my place among the others, my gaze instinctively scanning for Kyle. He steps into the center of the clearing, his brown eyes catching the dying light, seeming to hold the secrets of the five years he’s been away.
"Thanks for coming," Kyle starts, his voice strong enough to carry over the gathering without demanding silence. He doesn’t need to; we're all straining to hear him, curious about
