The run had settled into rhythm, but the night never loosened its grip. Wolves padded the inner lines of the veil. Witches manned the ward stones, palms raised, voices murmuring when the light dimmed and steadied again.
Ravyn ran with the front line, Grayson just ahead, her body a taut balance between power and control. Her wolf had shed the last of its restless energy, but something deeper kept her alert. Each breath of the night carried more than the pack’s scents. Something else waited beyond the veil—quiet, patient, watching.
The younger wolves were the first to falter. Their ears twitched at shadows that didn’t move, their heads turned toward spaces in the trees where nothing showed. Elders corrected them with bumps and nudges, but even Ravyn felt it—the sense that eyes pressed fro
