They came home at dusk.
The pack compound was in chaos — word had spread about Rowan's betrayal, about the Elder Council's unwitting collaboration with a Cult operative, about the eighteen-year deception that had festered at the heart of Silver Fang like a poison no one could taste. Warriors were on high alert. The remaining Elders — Miriam, Tomas, Harlan — were in emergency session. The patrol routes had been tripled.
And then Lucas walked through the gates with Arvella at his side, and the chaos stopped.
Not because he commanded it. Not because he used the Alpha voice or the Alpha authority or any of the tools he had been trained to use. It stopped because of her.
Because of the way the wildflowers along the path bloomed as she walked. Because of the way the wind shifted to carry her
