Morning did not come.
The sky remained the same endless gray, as if the world had forgotten how to turn toward light. Time moved, but it no longer announced itself.
Inside the packhouse, exhaustion settled into everything.
Wolves moved slower.
Voices stayed low.
No one stood alone.
Nyx stood at the edge of the inner courtyard, watching the still sky.
The stone beneath her feet held the night’s cold. It had not warmed. Nothing had.
Around her, patrols rotated in careful patterns. Groups stayed tight. Even the strongest Alphas no longer moved without guards within sight.
Fear had not broken them.
But it had changed them.
“They are waiting for direction.”
Elira’s voice came from behind her.
Nyx did not turn immediately.
“Are they waiting for direction from me?”
“No,” Elira said
