CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The whispers slither through the pack like a rogue breeze, rustling leaves and unsettling the formerly tranquil evening. I stand beneath the gnarled branches of an elder oak, my black hair a stark contrast against the soft glow of twilight filtering through the canopy. The rumors are not meant for my ears, yet they find me all the same, carrying fragments of unrest from the Ghost Moon pack.
"Political turmoil," someone hisses from behind the veil of thick foliage, the words laced with a mixture of concern and morbid curiosity.
"Alpha Jackson must be at his wit's end," another voice chimes in, ripe with speculation.
I shouldn't care about the intricacies of another pack's internal discord, but my heart stutters in my chest at the mention of Jackson's name. He is the eni
