The sensation was unlike anything Jack had ever experienced. It wasn't a sound, nor was it a vision. It was a map, etched not onto paper, but directly onto the canvas of his consciousness. A sprawling, three-dimensional tapestry of the entire city, woven from threads of instinct and dominance. With a mere thought, he could feel them—the scattered, hidden heartbeats of his kind. Each werewolf in the metropolis was a distinct point of light on this mental chart. Some flickered with a cold, blue terror, like mice hiding from a hawk. Others pulsed with a neutral, steady white, the glow of lone wolves minding their own affairs. And then there were the others—clusters of angry, defiant red, throbbing like infected wounds. These were the established packs, the local tyrants who had yet to bend the knee.This was the first true gift of his ascendant Alpha bloodline: the [Wolf Pack's Call]. It wasn't just a summons; it was a census, a divine right to know every corner of h
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