Jace
The night air is sharp, biting through my jacket like frozen knives as I lean against the lodge's railing.
Below, the clearing hums with low conversation. Wolves moving like shadows between the cabins, their voices a constant murmur of pack politics and territorial disputes.
My eyes track one shadow in particular. He’s stacking the last of the crates, shoulders tight as a coiled spring, movements clipped and precise.
He's still rattled from being hauled before the council. I can smell it on him, sharp and bitter, like a fox backed into a corner with nowhere left to run.
I rub a hand over my jaw, the old scar at my chin pulling tight. A reminder of the night I earned my place at Ronan's side.
Ronan was right to bring him in, even if the council hates it with every fiber of the
