Ava's POV
Though the evening was still, I couldn't get rid of the impression that something was developing—something buried in the quiet. The pack had discovered an unusual calm in the days following our encounter with the remnants of the Raven, but I felt uncomfortable, as though waiting for the other shoe to fall.
Jackson had sensed it too, but none of us had discussed it very much. An underlying tension persisted even as we were trying to soothe the pack and lead them through this phase of rebuilding.
But tonight that quiet was disturbed.
While patrolling close to the packhouse, I came upon Lyra slinking through the woods, her visage darkened by the low light. She hadn't spotted me, but her motions were deliberate, slow, as though she wanted no one to follow her. I decided to follow
