The scent of rain hung in the air, thick and electric, but the sky above the Bloodmoon territory hadn’t opened yet. It was as though the heavens held their breath, mirroring the way the pack did—waiting, braced, restless.
I stood at the edge of the training fields again, my boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. Every breath I drew felt heavier these days, not because of the threat outside our borders, but because of the tension rising within them. Even as we prepared for war, I couldn’t ignore the undercurrent twisting through our own people—a slow erosion of trust, suspicion settling like rot in the roots of our unity.
Noah had proven himself more than once since his pledge. He’d been tireless in training sessions, loyal in counsel, and gentle with the younger wolves who had begun
