His voice was low now, hollow with old grief.
“I was born into a secluded pack in the far North—the Night Hollow Pack. We were peaceful. Strong, but we kept to ourselves. My father was Alpha. My mother his Luna, both Dark Alphas. A rarity so extreme they took every measure to keep us hidden. But it wasn’t enough.”
River leaned in, her eyes locked on him, absorbing every word.
Jon continued, slower now.
“I was maybe six… when they came. Rogues, they said. At first. But they weren’t. They were organized. Controlled. Armed with something darker than claws or steel.”
He looked up, and the torment in his gaze was unmistakable.
“They used dark magic. Corrupted sorcery laced with blood sacrifice. Our pack stood no chance.”
River gasped softly. Even Tempest whimpered inside her, recognizing
