LYRA

The pack house felt different when everyone knew war was coming.

Not louder.

Quieter.

Like fear had settled into the walls themselves.

Wolves moved quickly through the halls, voices low, tension clinging to every corner. Weapons were being gathered. Patrol routes reassigned. Orders passed from room to room like sparks before a wildfire.

And through all of it—

The bond would not stop pulling.

Not toward a place.

Toward something.

I tightened the straps on the blades secured to my thighs ...