Crescent Moon was unnaturally quiet when we roared through the gates, the usual bustle of pack life conspicuously absent. Two unfamiliar SUVs with tinted windows were parked in front of the main packhouse, their government plates marking them as official vehicles.
Gabriel waited on the steps, his posture rigid with barely contained anger. Emily stood beside him, her hand on Trinity’s small shoulder. The little girl’s dark eyes were wide with fear, her hands clutching her favorite stuffed wolf.
“Kieran,” Gabriel’s relief was palpable as we approached. “And Arianna. Good. We were just explaining to these… representatives… why interviews must be conducted with proper supervision and consent.”
A tall man in an expensive suit stepped forward. “Council Investigator Durham,” he introduced h
