The morning after the attack, the packhouse was alive with energy. Everyone moved faster, sharper, more alert. The younger wolves trained harder than ever, while the older warriors reinforced defenses and set up new wards. Even Dennis moved differently, his steps lighter but precise, every movement purposeful.
I stayed close to Asher, our bond pulsing quietly. The battle from the night before still burned in my chest. My mark glowed faintly beneath my shirt, reminding me that the bloodline I carried was alive — and dangerous.
Lupa watched from the edge of the clearing, hands folded, blue eyes scanning everything. She didn’t train with us. She didn’t touch the energy, didn’t try to push herself. She only observed. And I could see the fear in her, the same fear I felt when I first realized
