The pack house buzzed with grim determination as dawn approached. Modric stood at the head of the war table, maps spread out, his storm-gray eyes sharp. Naida stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, her partial mark hidden under a high collar but pulsing warmly with the bond. The truth about his parents still ached between them, but the raw passion from last night had forged something stronger—trust.
“We hit them before they hit us,” Modric said calmly. “Naida has the intel. Use it.”
She stepped forward, voice steady despite the nerves twisting in her gut. “My father’s alliance relies on silver nets and wolfsbane gas. Blackthorn wolves will charge from the north expecting chaos. But hunters are predictable. They always set up sniper positions on high ground here, here, and here.” She poi
