Scarlett’s POV

The pack sleeps.

That alone tells me I’m right.

The corridors are too quiet as I move through them, barefoot on cold stone, my pulse echoing louder than my steps. Even the wards seem subdued, as if the territory itself has bowed its head. Wolves dream heavily tonight—drugged not by herbs or magic, but by exhaustion and denial.

They are all so tired of fighting fate.

I’m not.

I pause outside my chamber and look back once, just once, down the long hall that leads to ...