KAT
Convergence
Three days after the blood ritual, my body exists in perpetual negotiation with three wolf pups who treat my organs like their personal gymnasium. The renovated mess hall thrums with pack energy—four hundred and fifty-seven voices mixing over dinner, the sound of unity we've bled to create. I manage three bites of Eddie's venison stew before Baby B lodges his heel somewhere that makes breathing theoretical.
"You're not eating enough." Cheryl slides another plate in front of me, this one piled with cornbread that gleams with butter.
"I've consumed enough calories for a small army."
"You're growing a small army." She watches me with the particular concern of someone who's been there since the beginning. "Three alphas need fuel."
The mess hall spreads around us—expanded
