The moon hung low over the forest as Ava slipped out of the pack house. The cool night air nipped at her skin, but she welcomed it—it was a reprieve from the warmth of the pack house and the simmering conflict in her chest. With only a month left until the arranged attack on Lesley’s pack, tensions were high, and this clandestine meeting was crucial.
Ava’s boots crunched softly against the forest floor as she approached the clearing. There, waiting under the shadow of the tall oaks, were three figures cloaked in dark hoods. Delegates from her former pack.
“You’re late,” one of them said, his voice low and edged with irritation.
“I had to ensure I wasn’t followed,” Ava replied curtly, stepping into the circle. She crossed her arms, her demeanour as sharp as ever, though her mind churned
