Kane’s POV

The sun hasn’t even risen, and already the air feels wrong—thick with smoke and a silence that screams louder than any battle cry. I ride at a run, the wind tearing past me, ears straining for anything out of place. My wolf hums beneath my skin, restless, anxious, tasting the fear in the air. I know before I even see it—the allied pack is gone.

We reach the borders first. The ground is scorched, grass blackened into brittle ash. Trees stand jagged and splintered, like teeth ...