When I entered the grand dining hall, the atmosphere was thick enough to choke on.
Dozens of pack elders, family heads, and warriors sat along the long oak tables. Conversations were hushed, nervous glances constantly darting toward the head table. The storm outside battered the stone walls, making the iron chandeliers sway overhead, casting long, dancing shadows across the room.
I took my seat near the far end of the high table, sitting beside Alma and Jill.
Alma looked older today, deep lines carved around her mouth, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. She reached out under the table, finding my hand and squeezing it with a fierce, quiet warmth.
"You shouldn't have come down, child," Alma murmured softly, her eyes filled with deep sadness.
"I'm not hiding anymore, Alma," I whispe
