Chase’s POV
The first howl came at 2:14 a.m.
Low, deliberate, rolling across the northern tree line like distant thunder. One voice. Then another. Then three more—spaced out, testing, not committing. Not yet.
I was already awake. Pain from the knee had kept me restless all night; the brace felt like a cage. When the first sound hit, my wolf surged so hard I nearly shifted right there in bed. The crutches were leaning against the nightstand. I grabbed them, swung my good leg over the edge, and stood—awkward, slow, furious.
Amelia woke the instant I moved.
“Chase?”
“Stay with the kids,” I said, voice rough from lack of sleep and rage. “Keep them inside. Lights off. No windows.”
She didn’t argue. Just nodded once, already slipping out of bed, pulling on the robe she kept by the door. I
