The waiting is worse than any battle Amelia's ever fought.She sits in the rocking chair by the window, Liora pressed against her chest, and listens to the night tear itself apart. Howls answer howls. Pack wolves calling positions, reporting movement, tight coordination that should be comforting but isn't. Because underneath it all, threading through the familiar voices, are the other sounds. Wrong sounds. Wolves that don't belong here, circling like they own the dark.Marcus hasn't moved from his post by the door in three hours. His crossbow is loaded, another one propped against the wall within reach, and his eyes never stop scanning the tree line. Every few minutes he glances back at her, checking, making sure she's still there, still breathing, still holding her daughter like a lifeline."How many do you think?" Her voice comes out steadier than she feels."Hard to say." Marcus doesn't look away from the window. "At least four distinct howls. Could be more staying silent. Could be
Last Updated : 2025-11-24 Read more