The pack house was never truly silent. Even at night, wolves padded through the halls, voices rose in hushed tones, and the hearth fires whispered in their stone cradles. But as Bella made her way down the corridor that night, wrapped in her shawl, the silence was different. It was heavy, deliberate—like the house itself was holding its breath.

Alfred had not returned from the council chambers. Hours had passed since the elders had “adjourned,” and still his footsteps hadn’t echoed ...