The moon had barely risen when the news arrived like a blade to the throat.
Victor received the message first, a single encrypted line from one of our scouts stationed near the old Silver Ridge border: Damien Caldwell has been released. Council order. He is heading straight for Blackthorn land. Alone. Unarmed. Demanding to see the Luna.
Victor’s roar shook the lodge walls. Glass rattled in the windows. The pack froze wherever they stood, every wolf feeling the Alpha’s fury roll through the bond like black thunder. I was in the nursery we had started preparing, folding tiny blankets that still smelled of fresh cotton and hope, when the door burst open. Victor stood there breathing hard, eyes pure molten gold, chest heaving under his open shirt.
“He is coming here,” he said, voice so low
