Aiden’s POV

Our packhouse was a ghost of its original self.

Charred beams postured at unnatural angles, claw marks gouged deep into stone walls that had once sheltered my pack’s members. The air still carried the faint, metallic scent of blood and burnt fur, a reminder that mutant wolves had torn through this place without mercy.

This has been our home since I was born.

I stepped inside slowly, my boots crunching against shattered glass and debris. Every instinct screamed for me to stop, to ...