POV: Luther
The whiskey burned, but it didn’t touch the hollow.
I stood on the stone balcony above the yard, glass in hand, watching Red Moon breathe in the dark. Torches guttered, throwing ragged light across training posts and wet flagstones. A few late warriors still drilled—because I had told them to, and obedience is easier than sleep when the Alpha is restless.
They bowed when they saw me. Too fast. Too shallow. Fear has a scent, and it rises quickest at night.
Wind slid cold along the ridge, lifting the hair at my nape. Beyond the border, the forest swayed like a black ocean in the moonless dark. I tipped the glass and found it empty.
Silence thickened.
Then the night split.
At first, not even a howl—just a child’s voice, carried where no child’s voice should ever reach.
“Ma
