JONAS’ POV
I’ve never felt more invisible in my life.
It’s like I’ve turned into a ghost—breathing, walking, living—but no one sees me. Not the pack. Not the council. Not even my own damn father. I could shout at the top of my lungs and the only thing that would answer would be the wind.
They don’t care that I’ve bled for this pack, that I’ve trained, fought, and given up years of my life to prove I’m worthy.
None of it matters. Not anymore.
Not since the triplets made their come bacl.
Their victory over the Sorceress—whoever the hell she is—was the final nail in my coffin. Everyone walks around talking about how they defeated some supreme threat like they're gods in the flesh. The stories are everywhere. People whisper them like prayers with their eyes wide with admiration, with awe
