The Crimson Moon Pack territory had changed in the two years Winter had been away.
Not the land itself—the forests were still dark and dense, the mountains still rose sharp against the sky, the pack house still stood like a fortress of stone and timber, but the atmosphere had shifted.
The wolves moved differently. The air was thick with something unspoken.
Fear. Uncertainty. Anticipation.
Winter's absence had given the pack a strange sense of freedom.
His Beta, Korr, had ruled with an iron fist, but he was not Winter.
He did not inspire the same primal terror, did not make wolves tremble with a single glance.
Now Winter was returning.
And the pack did not know whether to feel relief or dread.
—
In the slave quarters, Fae sat on the thin mattress in the corner of the small roo
