The heavy wooden doors of the Silver Moon packhouse groaned as Cassius kicked them open, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the silent, starving settlement.
I walked over the threshold, my black leather boots stepping onto the pristine hardwood floors I had spent my entire childhood scrubbing on my hands and knees. The grand foyer hadn't changed. The expensive crystal chandelier still hung from the ceiling, and the walls were still lined with the arrogant portraits of past Alphas.
But the atmosphere was entirely different.
The packhouse was packed with hundreds of Southern wolves, but not a single one dared to speak. They pressed their backs against the walls, keeping their eyes glued to the floor in absolute submission. The scent of fear, shame, and awe was suffocating.
They
