The air was thick with anticipation as Zion, Beta Cillian, and I stood at the large double iron gates of our pack's territory. The sigil carved into the gates glinted in the dimming light, a testament to our pack’s long and storied history. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the scene, while fire torches began to flicker to life, adding an almost ethereal ambiance to the air.

I could feel Zion's hand lightly resting on my back, a silent gesture of support and solidarity. ...