The Blackwood Pack territory trembled under the weight of impending war.
Rain hammered the ancient pines surrounding the estate, wind howling through the old-growth forest like the howls of rival wolves testing boundaries. Lightning illuminated the jagged cliffs and the dark, churning waters of Puget Sound below — ancestral hunting grounds now tainted by scandal.
Inside the mansion, the storm was far more dangerous.
Damien Blackwood, Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, paced the master study like a caged predator. Power rolled off him in waves — dark, commanding, laced with the raw dominance that had kept his pack at the top of the Pacific Northwest hierarchy for decades. His bourbon eyes glowed faintly gold, silver threading his black hair like frost on obsidian. At forty-five, he was in his
