LOGINThe morning sun spilled across the training grounds, catching the frost on the grass and the taut muscles of the pack. Wolves moved through coordinated drills, practicing stances, attacks, and defensive maneuvers. The air was tense but disciplined, each movement sharp and deliberate. Every snap of a branch, every scraping footfall, felt magnified in the crisp air.
Veyra walked among them, observing quietly. She didn’t rush to intervene, only adjusting stances, correcting angles, or giv
The Shadowfang pack was not doing well at all, people were tired and suspiciousDamien stood by the high window of the war room, a parchment clutched in his hand. His expression was as cold as the stone beneath his boots.Selene approached him, her footsteps silent. “You’ve been staring at that report for ten minutes, Damien.”“I know.” He didn't look at her.“What does it say?”“That Veyra passed through the west passage twice this morning,” he said, his voice a flat monotone. “And my watchers say she lingered near the old storage wing. Again”Selene’s brow furrowed. “That isn't proof of treason. It’s barely proof of curiosity.”“No,” Damien agreed, finally folding the report. “It is not.”“But?”“But she keeps making moves that only make sense if you’re looking for a shadow,” h
Morning broke over Shadowfang in shades of bruised grey, and nothing about the light felt clean.The sky was a pale, sickly wash of color, and the air carried a bite that went deeper than the skin. Wolves moved through the courtyard with hushed steps, their voices low murmurs that seemed to amplify the uneasy silence. Some watched the gates, others watched the treeline. Most were watching each other. The trust that usually bound the pack together had begun to fray at the edges, worn thin by grief and the scent of a hidden enemy.Veyra stood near the mouth of the inner hall, her arms folded tight against her chest. She was trying and failing not to think about the mark on her neck.She could feel it pulsing.It wasn't just a physical sensation; it was an anchor. Every breath she drew reminded her of the silver light and the weight of Malric’s hands. Every time she swallowed, the phantom pressure of his teeth seemed to bloom again. And worst of all, e
Veyra surged awake, a sharp breath catching like a hook in her throat.For a heartbeat, she was nameless and lost. Then the scent of warm skin, sun-dried linen, and the faint, woodsy trace of Malric flooded her senses, anchoring her to the reality of the room. Her eyes snapped open.She was in his bed entwined. Her body was pressed flush against his back, her arm draped over his waist, her face tucked so close to his shoulder that she could feel the steady, rhythmic engine of his breathing. Pale lines of dawn light filtered through the heavy curtains, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the still air. She froze, paralyzed by the sheer weight of the intimacy.Then, the memories surged back, unbidden and vivid.The silver moon. The heat of his hands. The rough, desperate pressure of his mouth.The mark.Her stomach recoiled. Veyra jerked away, scrambling to sit up. Her hand tangled in the heavy furs, her knee skidded across the mattress, an
The mourning hall was full, but the air was heavy with a silence that nobody dared break above a whisper. Liam’s body lay upon the long stone altar, shrouded in pale cloth and bound with silver thread. His weapons were placed at his side, as if he might reach for them upon waking. Wolves stood in tight clusters near the walls, heads bowed and faces haggard, their eyes rimmed red from grief or exhaustion. The atmosphere was thick with sorrow.Garrick stood at the head of the altar, a statue of redirected rage. He had not moved for hours. His hands were clasped behind his back, but his shoulders were iron-stiff, his jaw set so hard it looked as though he were holding his entire soul together by sheer force of will. He stared at Liam, trying to reconcile the image of the fierce warrior with the still, silent thing on the slab.An elder approached, his voice a cautious rasp. “We have finished the rites for the first hour.”Garrick didn’t blin
The morning sun broke over the pack lands illuminating the wreckage of the previous night. The air, once thick with the metallic scent of copper and ozone, was finally beginning to clear, though the atmosphere remained heavy with a collective, bone-deep exhaustion. No one had slept.The grounds looked less bloody than they had a few hours ago, but the stains were stubbornHigh above the central square, Damien stood on the stone balcony of the Alpha’s quarters. His hands gripped the railing so tightly his knuckles were white. His brows were deeply furrowed, carving a permanent line of worry into his forehead. As Alpha, the weight of every life lost sat squarely on his shoulders. Two pack members were dead torn away in the chaos and the silence they left behind was louder than the frantic cleaning below. He needed a plan, and he needed it before things got worseVeyra wiped sweat from her brow, her palms stained with the grey ash and dirt of th
The night after the rogue attack had left Shadowfang looking tired in a way no wound could fix.The gates had been mended, the wounded had been treated, and the dead had been counted. But the pack still moved, they had to keep moving, they had been facing attacks after attacks and they still did not have a full proof plan.Liora found Korven near the eastern stairway just before sunrise.He was standing with both hands on the stone rail, staring out at the trees. He did not turn when she came near, but he knew it was her.“What are you doing,” she askedKorven glanced at her. “Nothing?”She stared at him for a moment, then stepped closer and leaned against the rail beside him. Below them, the courtyard was quiet except for a few early warriors crossing the stone yard. The whole place felt soft for once, tired but still alive.“You know,” she said, “I keep waiting for this to feel less strange.
The training grounds had long since emptied, but Selene remained.The earth beneath her feet was scuffed and uneven, marked by hours of movement footwork, pivots, controlled strikes. Sweat clung to her skin, dampening the loose fabric of her training clothes, yet she didn’t slow down
The night had grown colder, sharper, as though the air itself were aware of the unease settling over the pack. The training grounds, once alive with the sound of strikes and footsteps, were now quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a lone wolf. But inside the pac
Veyra moved through the shadowed corridors of the pack hall with quiet precision, her mind mapping every detail of the upcoming day. Small gestures, subtle words, positioning of wolves all of it mattered. She paused at the edge of the training grounds, watching from a distance as the younger wolv
Selene woke before the sun rose.It wasn’t the kind of waking that came from nightmares or restlessness. There was no sharp intake of breath, no instinctive reach for power or claws. It was softer than that. Subtler.The bond stirred.She lay still for a while, eyes open, lis







