I locked the door behind me.
The diaries sat on my desk where I'd left them—three leather-bound volumes, edges worn soft from years of handling.
Her diary was labeled simply Alice. Every good Luna kept one. Her journals. After her reign, they were kept in the libraries and taught to the pack pups to instill wisdom, humility, and compassion toward fellow pack members. Not a pack requirement, just good politics. After this was all over, anything that wasn't confidential I would turn over to the pack libraries.
My mother's Alice's handwriting filled every page. She never liked the title Luna and refused to let the pack address her that way.
Neat. Precise. The kind of records a Luna kept when she knew the pack's survival depended on memory.
I pulled the first one toward me and opened i
