The gates of Ashford Pack looked smaller than ever.
Nyra used to see those towering wooden walls as everything she wanted—home, belonging, hope for a future she had to fight for. She’d crossed through them more times than she could count—before sunrise, after dark, battered and sore but always determined to prove she deserved her place among wolves who never truly accepted her.
Now she stood before them one last time.
She felt absolutely nothing.
Just emptiness.
Morning stretched big and pale across the mountains. The wind was sharp, carrying the clean bite of pine—the sort of scent that should have been comforting, but now just felt like a load of memories she’d rather forget.
This place built her.
This place broke her.
Today she was leaving it behind for good.
Behind her waited
