Caelan POV:
The pack feels the convoy before it ever reaches the outer road.
Not as fear or even as tension. What moves through the territory is attention, a low, unified awareness that rolls outward from the boundary like a slow breath being drawn. Wolves lift their heads in unison. Conversations pause mid-thought. Patrol routes adjust without command, instinct already doing the work of orders.
It’s the kind of response I’ve spent years shaping. One that is quiet, cohesive and controlled.
When I step onto the packhouse steps with Elara at my side, I feel that unity settle around us like a second foundation beneath the stone. Her fingers lace loosely with mine, warm and certain, not clinging and not distant. The mark at her throat catches the late afternoon light exactly as intended, v
