Leila POV
Two days have passed since the rogue attack, and the Alpha’s office has become our war room, the air thick with ink, coffee, and unspoken worry.
Yesterday we pored over logs until midnight, Kai’s broad frame hunched over the desk, his stormy eyes narrowing at every smudged date. “Someone knew our rotations,” he growled, raking a hand through his hair. Dax paced, his usual jokes falling flat, his mind clearly on the rogue chained below. I found a pattern – gaps where patrols were thinned, times erased and rewritten in the same hurried scrawl.
Today the room is a haven of order amidst the packhouse’s chaos, everyone still shook from the attack. The floorboards creak under my cautious steps, and the faint scent of ink and old leather mingling with the ever-present tang of pine dr
