Elara POV:
The rain hasn’t fully left the air when my father calls the pack to order and I meet him.
It lingers instead as a fine mist, clinging to skin and darkening the packed earth beneath our boots, carrying the sharp scent of wet pine and iron-rich soil that settles deep in the lungs. Training has only just ended. The last of the weights are set aside, breath still heavy in chests, muscles warm and loose from exertion, the echo of effort humming through the clearing.
I welcome the warmth, it helps keep my wolf quiet.
I stand beside Rourke at the edge of the clearing, not behind him and not in front—exactly where I belong. The pack forms a loose semicircle behind us, not defensive but present, bodies angled inward in that subtle, instinctive way that speaks of unity rather than thr
