The battle was over.

But the silence that followed felt heavier than the fight itself.

Lyla stood at the center of the ruins, her breath still coming in steady, sharp bursts.

Her fur was damp with sweat and blood, some of it hers, some of it Mason’s but none of that mattered now.

Because she had won.

She was Alpha.

And yet, as she looked around, she could see the hesitation, the doubt.

The pack wasn’t celebrating.

They weren’t kneeling in loyalty.

They were ...