The night split open with the sound of war.

Drums. Howls. The distant crack of fire catching on the outskirts of the territory.

Bella stood on the balcony of the pack house, the cold wind slicing through her hair, carrying the scent of smoke and blood. Beneath the silver wash of the moon, the forest burned in patches — a slow, creeping blaze that looked like veins of hellfire crawling toward their home.

Roland’s army had come.

Behind her, the pack’s command room was chaos. Warriors ...