The moon hung low and swollen, a pale eye glaring down at Moonshadow as the pack gathered in the courtyard. Torches lined the walls, their flames snapping in the restless wind. The air smelled of unease—fear, sweat, and anticipation tangling together until every wolf’s hackles prickled.

Alfred stood on the stone steps above them, his shoulders squared, his presence a shield of iron. Bella stood at his side, wrapped in her shawl, the golden hum in her chest restless as though it too sensed ...