Lorenzo
The hunt was never just a hunt.
To outsiders, it might look like blood sport—wolves tearing through the forest, chasing prey until the earth itself shook. But for us, for Cold Ridge, it was ritual. It was the pack breathing as one body, moving as one beast. It was survival and communion all at once.
And for her, it would be the truth she couldn’t keep denying.
Sindy thought she could fight this. That she could keep herself separate from me, from us. That she could pretend the bond was nothing but a chain she would drag behind her until it rusted away.
But once she ran with us, once she felt the pull of the moon and the rhythm of the pack beneath her skin, she would know.
I would make sure of it.
By dawn, I had the sentries posted and the preparations underway. The lodge buzz
