CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The air is electric, charged with the potential of new beginnings and bittersweet farewells. My eyes flit across familiar faces, then to the strangers Henry collected—wolves who were saved from their inability to shift—wolves who have fought by our side, their loyalties still hanging in the balance. Henry stands among them, his presence like a beacon—blonde hair catching the last light of dusk, blue eyes reflecting a sky caught between day and night. He's an enigma, the werewolf once without a shift, yet commanding respect all the same.
"Those who wish to return to their kin," Ezra's voice rumbles, strong and certain, "may do so with our blessing." His gaze, the color of rich earth, scans the small crowd before us. The Alpha's stance is unyielding, but his tone holds a
