I never got the chance to regroup and plan my next move. Giana struck first, and she struck with devastating precision that spoke to months of careful planning and preparation.
The next morning, before I could even process the destruction of our evidence or figure out an alternative approach, Giana burst into the dining hall during breakfast. Her timing was perfect—the hall was full of pack members, ensuring maximum audience for whatever performance she was about to deliver.
The morning had started normally. Pack members chatted over their meals, discussing daily duties and pack business. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost peaceful, which made what followed all the more shocking.
Tears streamed down Giana's face as she stumbled toward Raymond's table, her distress so convincing that sev
