Cold air nipped at Quinn's cheeks as her white stallion thundered along the winding ridge that once defined the ancient divide between White Fang and Black Claw land. The moon was low, a silver gaze watching her ride into the land of her enemies—though, presently, Ezra's land was more broken than cruel. The Black Claw Pack had fallen into silence, dissolved following political instability. Dissent rumors spread like shadows through the depths.

Quinn's teeth clenched. She had ridden in ...