Samantha’s hands moved mechanically over the table, sorting herbs into neat rows. The familiar scent of crushed wolfsbane and thyme usually calmed her nerves, but today it only reminded her how fragile the air in the pack had become. The whole compound felt tense.

Footsteps echoed behind her before she even caught the scent. Eve.

Samantha straightened without turning. The soft shuffle of several others followed—Eve’s usual entourage, always a step behind, always waiting for someone else ...