ROBERT POV
The moment we set foot inside Winter Pack, I felt it.
That itch behind the ribs. The unease that coils around your spine like cold smoke. I’d felt it before—every time the Council decided to stick their crusty fingers into Pack matters. It always came dressed in formality, but it reeked of chaos underneath. Unseasoned. Off.
And this time was no different.
Amber was pacing in front of the Pack house, arms folded tight, chewing her bottom lip like it owed her something. That alone told me all I needed to know—Amber never paced unless s**t was about to hit the fan.
And I wasn’t in the mood to get splattered.
Not with Pauline at my side. Not with the weight of her father’s past looming over all of us like some ghostly specter, ready to pounce the second we dropped our guard.
