Three helicopters landed in perfect formation on the lawn. Under the glow of the night lights, the wolf head insignia on their bodies was impossible to miss. They were the exclusive aircraft of the Witt Pack's guard unit.
The cabin doors opened, and a group of men in black stepped out. They moved quickly into the banquet hall before forming two orderly lines.
A man in his 40s walked between them. His presence was heavy and intimidating, carrying the aura of someone who had survived countless battles. When he entered, he didn't spare a glance at anyone. He simply took a breath, as if sensing the surroundings, before walking straight toward me.
The werewolves surrounding me immediately felt the threat and retreated.
Someone noticed the black obsidian tail ring on his pinky finger and cov
