KELLY THOMPSON'S POV

The walls of the meeting room, carved from the heart of the ancient forest surrounding our stronghold, seemed to thrum with the urgency of our planning. I sat at the head of the aged oak table, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the intricate carvings of wolves that adorned the surface, a testament to generations of South Pack leadership. Elara Windrider's keen eyes were like two flints sparking over maps and scrolls, her brow furrowed as she plotted our maneuvers. Gamma ...