Lucian Draven’s POV
Clown painting
It’s been two days since we narrowly escaped Styrbjorn Irk’s ambush, but the tension hasn’t dissipated. If anything, it’s simmering beneath the surface, as Freya, Alaric, and I work relentlessly to track him down. While we wait for leads, the pack house remains as chaotic as ever.
I wake to the sound of whispers and the light patter of footsteps. My senses flare as I feel something brush against my face, a soft, delicate touch. Startled, I shoot up in bed, just in time to catch a small figure slipping out of my room and shutting the door behind them.
I rub my temples, already exhausted, though the day has barely begun. Pulling myself out of bed, I shuffle toward the bathroom. Something feels off, a nagging sensation at the back of my mind. I glance at
