CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The moon, bloated and daring in the night sky, watches as I tread softly through the woods bordering the Pine pack territory. My heart thrums a wild rhythm, syncopating with the distant howls that remind me of my place — a bride to Mark, an outsider to them though I have lived my whole life in this pack. The earthy smell of pine needles is sharp in my nostrils, mingling with the musty scent of wolf that hangs heavy in the air.
"Little Alpha bride," a voice hisses from the shadows, drenched in scorn and fear.
I spin on my heel, the honey strands of my hair whisking across my face. There, emerging from the concealment of twisted trunks, stand members of the Pine pack. They’re cloaked in darkness, but their intent is as clear as daybreak.
"Stay back," I warn, though my
