CHAPTER NINETY-NINE
I pace the border of our territory, my keen senses stretched to their limit. The earthy scent of pine and damp soil fills my nostrils as I scan the underbrush for signs of intruders. Beside me, Tristan moves with a quiet grace that belies his strength. Our packs, Silver Paws and Shadow Tail, work in unison – a sleek, vigilant force sweeping through the woods.
"Anything?" Tristan's voice is low, a soft rumble that vibrates through the cool morning air.
"Nothing," I reply, my eyes still searching the shadows between the trees. "The rogues have vanished like smoke."
"Seems too easy," he murmurs, his hazel eyes meeting mine. There's a flicker of concern there, but I find comfort in the steady beat of his presence. As Gammas, we both know the cost of letting our guard do
