The sounds of the fight echoed through the trees—snarls and snapping jaws, flesh against flesh, bone cracking like branches underfoot.
It drew them.
One by one, the pack emerged from the shadows. Silent. Watchful.
First, Judd stood at the edge of the clearing, drawn by instinct. Then came the elders, grim and weathered. The Millers, their cheeks ruddy from the cold. Mira with wide eyes. Damien, Holden, and the others who trained daily and understood what they were witnessing.
They said nothing.
They didn’t need to.
The air vibrated with the weight of what was happening. The clearing had become sacred ground.
Byron and Brandon were locked in a brutal tangle of claws and blood. Mid-shifted, half-wolf, half-man. Fur sliced through skin, jaws snapped open, closing inches from throats. E
