The moon hung in the sky like a sliver of ice, casting pale light across the frozen landscape. Its glow illuminated the snow-covered pines that surrounded Silver Ridge compound, turning the world into a study of silver and shadow. The air was so cold it burned the lungs, and each breath came out as fog that dissipated quickly in the winter night.
Twenty Blackthorn wolves moved through the forest like living shadows, their forms barely distinguishable from the darkness between the trees. Their paws made no sound on the frozen snow, each step calculated and precise. This was what they had trained for, what Victor had prepared them for over years of discipline and strategy. They were not just warriors. They were instruments of justice, honed to a lethal edge.
Victor led the pack, his massiv
