Witch Among Wolves - The Alpha's Enemy Bride
They spill out into the night, pressing close, a tapestry of bodies and stories, dreams and scars.
Outside, the Hollowing writhes in the snow—shadow made almost solid, faceless and vast, hungry as the sea. It leans in, searching for cracks, for loneliness, for anyone left behind.
But the pack, the witches, the refugees—they hold. They press back against the dark, laughter and tears rising in the same breath, stories old and new spilling into the night. Someone sings—a child’s voice, wavering and sweet—and another joins, then another, until the song is everywhere, layered with hope and grief and the desperate joy of survival.
Bab Populer