The dining hall of the pack house hummed with quiet conversation when Kristen and I walked in. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, spilling across the long table where warriors and pack members were already gathered. The clink of silverware, the rustle of napkins, the low laughter of men who had likely been up on patrol since dawn—it should have felt ordinary. Safe.

But my steps faltered the moment I saw him.

Arden.

He sat near the center of the table, casual yet commanding, ...