POV: Mason
Trust was a fragile thing.
I used to believe it was unbreakable inside a pack.
I was wrong.
The border meeting was supposed to be simple—an exchange of information between us and one of our oldest allied packs. No drama. No bloodshed. Just words and handshakes under neutral ground.
But from the moment I stepped into the clearing, something felt off.
The wind was wrong.
Too still.
Too quiet.
Their Alpha, Corvin, stood near the treeline with five of his warriors behind him. His expression was friendly—too friendly. A forced calm stretched tight across his face like a mask that might crack if I breathed too hard near it.
“Mason,” Corvin greeted, spreading his hands. “It’s been a long time.”
“Not long enough for threats to disappear,” I replied coolly as I stepped forward
