When Nana steps into the packhouse, chaos greets her. The smell of metal and blood fills the air; screams of the injured merge with the sounds of running warriors, and medical personnel. Just the sight turns her stomach—men and women brought into the pack clinic, some groaning in agony, others deathly still.

She looks down and briskly pushes her way through the people, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone. The last thing she needs is Marco to turn his head in her direction and ...